I had come to dread those words! They came from my son - my only child and he began saying them at the age of two.  “Look at me” he cried as he pushed his long handled ‘lawn mower’ across the carpet.  The plastic-enclosed beads above the wheels made quite a racket.  Or “Look at me” as he turned four and pedaled his miniature car around the patio.


As son Scott aged, the things I had to ‘look at me’ for changed. Roller skating.  Bicycling. Swimming.  Diving. And then the dumbest.  Riding a wooden, hand-made car with no brakes down a steep hill. It’s no wonder he broke his collarbone for the second time! The ER had been saying “Hi, Scott” when we walked in for at least five years! 


“Look at me!” Scott said, “I’m driving!”


I replied, as any mother-adult-person-in-the-car would. “Keep your eyes on the road, not who might see you!”
“Holy cow! There’s Mike! Duck down!”

“What?”

“Duck down! I don’t want him to see my mother practically sitting in my lap!”

Like an idiot, I did as instructed. Why, I still don’t know.


When we had passed Mike, I scooted over into the passenger side, convincing myself I could still grab the wheel if needed. And then I lectured. In fact I lectured so often, my son numbered them. Lecture 300 had to do with driving responsibility. And, of course, as are all mother’s lectures, it was ignored.


The next “Look at me!” was monumental. Scott stood on the platform shaking the School Superintendent’s hand with his right and waving his diploma at me with his left. He mouthed those dreaded words as I clicked my digital camera.


Time does really march on. It seemed like only yesterday (didn’t our parents say things like that? Gad, I’ve become my mother!) that Scott started college.  There was one time, however, during Scott’s college years, that we both wished I had not looked at him. Although he swore he had not been drinking, and the breathalyser bore this out, Scott had been detained by the police for being in a car with a drinking driver. How many times  had I told him, (Lecture 127), “If you’re with someone breaking the law, you’re just as guilty?”  The call came for me to pick him up at the campus police office. The shame and humiliation in Scott’s eyes begged me not to “look at him.” 


Then, when my back was turned, four years had passed and there he was again, on a platform in a different cap and gown, but still shaking a hand and waving his diploma. And, yes, I knew he was thinking “Look at me!”


The saga continued, with Scott’s first real job - an apprentice (I think that was his title) at Merrill Lynch, where he seemed to fit in perfectly and seemed to be really good at advising people how to invest their money. At least his visits to the ER were a thing of the past.


Like all, or almost all, good sons, Scott introduced me to his future wife, who as all mothers know was not quite good enough for him. However, she did make a lovely bride and, after the traditional kiss, Scott turned to me and grinned, as if to say, “Look at me!”


When their first child was born, Scott naturally took all the credit. Men seem to do that, have you noticed? The look on his face portrayed more than his favorite saying could express.


The grandkids came over often. One day, as they were playing in the backyard kiddie pool, Scotty yelled, “Look at me, gramma! I’m swimming!” His little sister Megan, who idolized her big brother, joined in with “Me, gramma!” And so, another generation had arrived. I wondered if there would be many visits to the ER. 


Scott and I often met for a one on one breakfast. Just to stay up on things.

“Well, son. How are the kids doing in school?” I stirred my coffee and marveled at this handsome young man across from me. And to think, he only weighed four pounds eight ounces when he was born. God is good!  

“Great, Mom. Scott is carrying a 3.6 gpa and Megs is trying hard to match him.”

“What about college? Has he decided where, yet?”

Scott forked a huge bite of pancake into his mouth, and washed it down with orange juice. He chuckled. “Where else but my alma mater?” 

“He certainly isn’t going to follow your career, too, is he?”

“Not on your life. He’s into computers big time. Wants to do programming for the government.” Scott cleaned his plate and sat back. “All those computer games he used to play have really convinced him this is still a wide open field. Lucrative, too.”


I smiled, remembering Scott’s graduation from college and knew that he would feel the same chest-bursting pride I did, when Scotty waved his diploma.  


Now, the grandkids are getting married. Can you believe it? Before long, I’ll be a great grandma! I think I’ve finally earned the right to say, “Look at me!” don’t you?