When Menopause and Puberty Collide
The scent of a woman is that of a tween boy.
There comes a time in every geriatric mom’s life when her tween son looks at her and asks:
“When will I get a mustache like you?”
“Soon, child,” you say in your now gravelly voice, changed by your fluctuating hormones. Very soon.
Your son rolls his eyes and moves his attention to the hair he does have. “Can I borrow your styling cream?” he asks in his crackly voice, changed by his fluctuating hormones.
“Of course,” you say. “It’s right next to our zit cream.”
The Changing Bodies Bond
Everyone talks about how cute the mother-son bond is when the boys are little. Their sweet faces scanning the bleachers from right field looking for Mommy. Their gentle kisses and promises to love you forever. They are soft and tender and protective with their mommies. My son used to say, “Dad’s are for farting and Mom’s are for cuddling!” I feel like this is another case where mom’s can multitask, but I digress.
While my son and I have always been close, we are now two members of a very exclusive club. The Changing Bodies Club. Bart, the patient husband and doting father, or as I like to call him behind his back, “The Goddamn Unchanged,” sits on the couch oblivious to the hormonal solar flare shit storm erupting around him. He drinks his smoothie and watches the top 10 plays of the day on Sports Center, thin and even-keeled as the day we met, just waiting for his silver fox era to begin.
The child and I are connected, psychically bonded for this ephemeral period of time, trapped in bodies that are morphing and transforming without our consent. Puberty is defined as the natural part of development when your child's body goes through physical and hormonal changes to reach sexual maturity.
Menopause is also natural and involves physical and hormonal changes. We’re basically in the same business now except puberty is like a well-funded start-up with pet friendly work spaces and free IPA on tap while menopause is the dusty old vacuum repair shop wedged between a Whole Foods and hipster barber that hasn’t unclogged a dustbin since 1974.
We Stink
When we get together in a small space like a car or an elevator we do this cute thing where we sniff our pits at the same time and gag a little.
“Is that coming from you? Or is that me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe both of us?”
The scent of a woman is that of a tween boy.
We Grow
As my son gets lean and long like a sunflower compelled by the rays of light, I droop and pooch and spread horizontally like an overwatered pothos plant.
We Ache
We both complain about our achey joints— his from his lengthening bones, mine from picking up my coffee with my left hand.
We Seek & Find
We examine our faces every morning looking for stray hairs and burgeoning zits.
First one to cultivate a soul patch wins.
(I’m in the lead.)
We Can Clear a Room
Everybody farts and that’s especially true for people who are experiencing berserker hormonal bonanzas. We’ve always been a “fart-friendly” household but this is next level.
The world is our dutch oven.
We Sweat
There is a constant battle in this house over the thermoset. The child and I run around in our shorts and t-shirts, yelling at poor Bart for being LAME because he dared to shiver in our presence.
Oh get a blanket, Agatha! we yell, as we open all the windows and let the soothing February night air in.
We Speak in Unrecognizable Voices
Sometimes the voice that comes out of my mouth shocks me and not because it says things like, I WILL SHANK THE NEXT PERSON IN THE KIDNEY WHO LEAVES THEIR SHOES IN THE LIVING ROOM. It’s the voice itself— it’s not mine! This voice is deeper and sounds like it needs a good throat clearing. It’s less “sultry and elegant Lauren Bacall” and more “cigarettes and strep Tom Waits.”
And my child! His sweet little boy voice drops octaves out of nowhere and scares the shit out of me! Like all of a sudden there’s a MAN in the hallway proclaiming his hunger!
Mom, do we HAVE ANY RAMEN? I’m starving.
And yet this husky-voiced man-child isn’t allowed to turn on the gas stove without supervision so how can this be???
Today it’s ramen, tomorrow he’s using that voice to tell me won’t be coming home for Christmas because he’s going to spend it with THAT HUSSY and her stupid family and gawwwwwdddd Mom why are you making such a big deal out this!
But Wait, There’s More!
The collision is merely a fender bender as the journey of our changing bodies has only begun. While I currently have the market covered on the big, sweeping, sudden mood swings, my descendent will soon be giving me a run for my money. Our skin will get worse. We’ll spend hours in the bathroom tending to our wanted and unwanted hair. Feelings will be hurt. Doors will slam. Bart is super excited for this next phase.
My son and I have no choice but to trod the beaten path as millions of middle-aged lady moms and their tweens have done before them. It is oddly comforting to know we’re on this journey together. We’ll be fine as long as one of us will always has a razor and a snack.
XO,
Shelly
The well-funded startup vs. the dusty old vacuum repair shop is the funniest fucking paragraph I’ve read in a very long time. I’m still laughing.
What a great way to bond! Who has the best nose hair clipper? There could be some great competitions between you two. Hehe. So funny. 😂