7 down, 5 to go!

This is the first day of 8Th grade and the last year of middle school for Trenton. Our blond haired, blue eyed boy who is approaching 14years old, is tormented by hormone surges, sprouting pit hair and has an overwhelming need for sleep that is only interrupted for several extreme feedings through out his day. He remains at the smaller end of the size scale compared to the other guys...his best friend being an absolute man-child who's feet have now surpassed David's size 11's! But, there is hope for T to gain on his peers. At a slight 95lbs, he has the same 30" inseam as his dad, although not yet meeting him in height, and sports a size 9 shoe, thus surpassing my 40 something, 50 something and 60 something year old brothers.

He's a good kid at the core, but while he is currently possessed by this phenomena called puberty, I can hardly tolerate him at times...well, honestly, most of the time. Puberty has got to be a form of Bi-Polar disease mixed with a relapse of the terrible two's and a smattering of mid-life crisis. He alternates between saying, doing and wanting what ever is the opposite of the family's general desire. When he is not sleeping or eating, he enjoys camping in his room, for which he has requested black-out shades, or camping in the play room playing a video game and talking to his pals via X-Box Live. He wants black-out shades for that room, too. This indoor way of life particularly makes David crazy so when T does exit the house he glances at his dad with a sly grin and squeals like a little girl saying, "Outside burns! It Burns! It burns!"

Recently, he and a friend were hanging out in his room with the door closed. They were laughing and chatting, but I had a sudden mother moment and felt the need to open the door and take inventory. Dear Lord! What is the source of that smell!?!? As I caught myself from falling over, I had a sudden flash back of entering my own brother's room a million years ago. Boy feet, boy breath, boy hair, boy gas, boy shoes, boy socks, boy laundry, boy, boy, boy! Why?!? They bathe and brush their teeth regularly. Actually, he bathes REALLY often. Trenton even fancy's using manly products manufactured by AXE and the like. I found myself fanning the door back and forth, like my mother had done so many years earlier, saying, " You've got to leave the door open and let some air in here! Whew!" They both looked at me like I had lost my mind. They didn't smell anything, except the sweet smell of themselves I suppose. I wonder, if I left my husband in a closed room for several hours with his friends, would it smell that way still? I guess it depends on if it was the hunters, the surfers or the cyclists. Meanwhile, I'm fanning Margo's door back and forth to rid it of the fumes from nail polish and magic markers! More on that another time.

At random, and seemingly without cause, Trenton will take out the trash or unload the dishwasher. We have tender moments in which he confides to me that he wishes he weren't so shy or had a more studly chest profile. He will grab his sister in what appears to be a violent headlock, but turns out to be a hug. He loves listening to his favorite stand up comedians and thoroughly enjoys performing segments of their routines at the oddest moments. Just this morning, when offered breakfast, he asked for "...just a smoke and a pancake." (Dr.Evil, for those who don't recognize) When in charge of the remote control, he jumps back and forth between the assorted high kill ratio flicks like James Bond, Sponge Bob and America's Funniest Videos. He can consume an entire can of soda in three gulps followed by an award winning belch, which gives him great pride and pleasure.

Well after Trenton was born and named, I happened to be standing at the grocery check out, waiting my turn and killing time by flipping through a baby name book. I read somewhere that children live up to their given names. I thumbed through and found that the name Trenton means Torrent.

Chuckle...