Lately, when Max decides (in a persnickety, cat-like way) that he's ready for a little affection, he'll come and hug me.
Delighted, because these moments are increasingly rare, I'll throw my arms around him and hold onto his hard, angular boy body.
It often ends with him shaking me off and snapping, "Get away from me, weirdo."
Author Meg Wolitzer totally gets what it's like to mother a boy. I'm reading The Ten-Year Nap right now, and the way she writes about boys around the ages of 9 or 10 is genius. Her narrative is filled with the nuances of raising a male creature with their growing remove and surging testosterone.
"I wonder if the boys learn a particular kind of maleness at school...A Lord of the Flies kind of thing. I know their aggression is held in check, but I feel like it's still there, like I can almost see it."
Max is not even the most boyish boy. He tends to be observant and scientific rather than rough. He is more the kid from Jerry Maguire who constantly quotes, "Did you know the human head weighs eight pounds?" than boys who stomp and squash and barrel.
Still, though, I'm sensing the impending distance. It lurks behind the trees like a hazy, pink sunrise.
***
So...Spectacle. In it, I write about a gym teacher who is despised by the two protagonists, Emily and Trix. Though, in the novel I changed the gym teacher's name and physical characteristics, she is, largely, based on my real middle school/high school gym teacher. A few of the scenes in the novel very much parallel my real life experiences.
Silly me, I never thought my ex-gym teacher would ever read my story aimed at 16-year-olds. Through the magic of Facebook, however, I learned that she has downloaded it.
Though I'd love for her to rethink some of the ways in which she "taught" us and favored certain students to the detriment of the rest of us, she's retired now and is, from what I have heard, a decent person and a constant in the community in which I grew up.
I'm an idiot. I hope I don't hurt her feelings too much and that she doesn't contact me.
In other Spectacle news, my little story hit the top 25 on Amazon's free Kindle books today! Mostly thanks to Pixel of Ink. Holla, P-O-I, and thank you for the shout out. It was a fun day watching the numbers go up.
Back to reality tomorrow when I hang the $2.99 price tag on Spectacle again.
***
Max and I have been watching the stats together, high-fiving a lot. Today I picked him up from unicycling club after school and could hardly wait to tell him: 4,500 downloads since I saw him last. He wore his hairnet still, the thing that protects him from catching lice from the community helmets, and had ballpoint pen scrawled across his smooth, soft forehead. "Wow," he said. "That's a lot."
He was caught there, between little boy and big boy, between looking ridiculous and not caring and grinning with me over Amazon rankings.
And I thought, God, I love this. I love this age and this moment and that I can appreciate it all.
Enjoy that age and stage! I realized recently that I've sort of been in mourning as my 12yo, my baby, doesn't really need me anymore. I still grab him and give him hugs and tousle his hair.
Posted by: Karen (formerly kcinnova) | February 17, 2012 at 12:05 AM
Get away from me, weirdo...
I love that. It's so how they are.
Congrats on making the Amazon list - that's no small feat. Very exciting!
Posted by: bananas | February 17, 2012 at 07:58 AM
I loved this post and understand the mourning involved in passing stages of kids.
I can remember just before going through puberty feeling a loss that was going to happen to my male playmates. I never that asexual freindships would change to something very comlicated.
Funny thing is though that in many of my 60 year old male friens.... every once in a while they display that innocent childlike playfulness free of any agenda... and then we laugh when we notice it at the same time.
Posted by: caroline | February 17, 2012 at 03:37 PM
My son sounds a lot like Max. Such a bony, tough little guy but with soft cheeks and tummy, and a squeaky giggle that melts me every time. God I love that kid.
The number spike is exciting. I've heard it can be really good for your book in the long run too, so fingers and toes crossed for Spectacle.
Posted by: Averil Dean | February 17, 2012 at 04:06 PM
Oh, your gym teacher. Awkward. Sigh.
I love not only Meg Wolitzer's writing, but her mother's writing, too (Hilma Wolitzer).
Posted by: Sarah Piazza | February 18, 2012 at 08:33 AM
I think your depiction of the gym teacher was similar to ones I had, too. It was the way it was, at least for our generation. I remember the horror of being forced to shower, showing proof (basically having to walk wet and naked through the locker room)....I would be surprised if they could get away with that today. Hopefully your teacher is aware that you write fiction, although all characters have to be created from some truth.
Posted by: Leslie | February 18, 2012 at 09:23 AM
Don't worry, the gym teacher thing is very universal. I never experienced anything personally (homeschooled), but I still heard stories from friends about their gym teachers who were completely out of touch with reality.
Good luck maintaining the affection from your boy while he finds himself! I grew up about a whole slew of lads, so I know what you mean. Some of them will still sneak mum cuddles, as long as no one's watching. ;)
~Ashlee
http://ashleesch.com
http://theDragonsHoard.bigcartel.com
Posted by: Ashlee | February 20, 2012 at 09:13 PM
Those numbers are fantastic! It must be so excited to know that so many people are reading what you wrote. I wouldn't worry too much about the gym teacher. I agree that those characteristics are somewhat universal, and also, it's not a bad thing for people to have to face the truth of who they have been and how they have treated people.
Posted by: Kristy | February 22, 2012 at 05:57 AM
I *loved* that Meg Wolitzer book.
Posted by: ARC | February 26, 2012 at 07:57 PM