a growing battle

My oldest, Jonas started 7th grade. 

That is so weird.

I feel like I went to sleep with my cute little stuttering 3 year old, and woke up with a handsome 12 year old with an ipod glued into his ears. When he speaks his little child voice has been replaced with a man voice. I look up to see his face instead of down. I ask him to reach things for me or open pickle jars, instead of the other way around. And I no longer ask him if he is hungry, cause he is eating ALL THE TIME. 

On the monumental first day of school, I pulled out my camera ready for my mom duties of preserving and slightly embarrassing my child through a barrage of pictures. But before I could head into paparazzi mode, He shut me down, refusing to have his picture taken. He informed me of his age, and status as a middle schooler and that he would no longer require my photography services.

Silently crushed, I respected his wishes. 

And took him to school.

When he came home, I asked him how his first day was.

I was told it was both cool and boring. 

The cool was having a locker, eating a GIANT chef salad in the cafeteria for lunch, and cooler teachers and classes.

The boring? Well one look at his hand and I saw just how bored he was with all the syllabus talks in class:

But he let me snap a picture!
No, not of his face, but his ink filled hand.
Years from now, I may not be able to look back and see what Jonas' face looked like as a teenager, but I will always have this image of his hand.
So not good enough.
But don't you worry, I fully intend to employ some guilt filled speeches today and will break him down like only a mother can.
Because Jonas isn't the only one who grew up this last decade.
I grew up and learned how to became a real, live nagging mother.

I will win the picture war, just you wait and see...