I Wonder Where I Go From Here?

So, now I have a blog...What am I gonna do with it? I can't always be PROFOUND...although the occaisional inspiration does happen. So, what do I want to say today?

Maybe the question is best stated, what do I want to allow you ACCESS TO in my head? There are a few dark corners that don't bear peering into too closely. Instead, let me introduce you to my sons.

My sons are the lights of my life. They are both terrific boys and I am hoping they become terrific men eventually. They are so close in age, that naturally, they are alike in alot of ways. But sometimes their differences are so stark and glaring, you don't even know they are related.

One has my father's eyes, is very introverted, but has shades of my wacky sense of humor developing (slowly but surely.) He is very intelligent, but sometimes I get the sense that he tries to hide that. I feel like he slacks off to avoid offending (for lack of a better word) his classmates. I don't mean to say he's a brainiac or anything...sometimes the boy has absolutely no commen sense!!

He doesn't like to be put on the spot. Doesn't like the spotlight. Sometimes I wonder if he can carry on a conversation with others, because I've seen it at times and it's like pulling teeth to get a sentence out of him. Hopefully he will grow in self confidence and maturity into the man I know he has waiting inside him.

My other son is the social character. He loves social situations, quotes movie lines and jokes to entertain everyone around, and laughs easily. He is assuredly the extrovert. He is the classic youngest child in that he doesn't tend to pay enough attention in school, except to wonder if he'll be voted class clown. He has struggled in the past with school-work, but as he is maturing, I see him opening his mind to absorb what he learns and he is experiencing first-hand how education is building on what you learned previously to master each new thing.

Both my son's have very soft hearts, but this child has an unusual depth of empathy. He cries at sad movies and songs a little like his mother does. He notices hurt feelings and injustice like a much older soul. I wonder, for him, if maturity won't dampen these kind traits into dust. I'd like to think not.

If you know them now or meet them later, you will be able to tell who is who. But for plausible deniability of invading their personal privacy, I have purposely not used names here. To protect the innocent. And, really, isn't that supposed to be every mother's job?