My youngest turns 10 in two weeks.

Let that sink in for a moment.  T E N. Double digits for both of my babies. I can hardly believe it.

We’ve run full steam into the tweens and I no longer find myself dealing with the easy issues like legos and boogers. Enter: INSECURITY. Enter: CONCERN. Enter: ANXIETY. Enter: EMBARRASSMENT.

Everything is getting more complex.

Sigh.

The soon-to-be-10 year old has developed a recent, shall we say, penchant for dancing.  (When I say dancing I mean MOVES, yo.) He watches his favorite band Big Time Rush execute choreographed masterpieces and he wishes to do the same. (Incidentally, mommy now knows the words to EVERY SINGLE Big Time Rush song. Oh. Yeah.) Yesterday, he and my niece found a “kicking” tune online and invented their own dance to go with it. Let me pause here and say, it was pretty darn good. (Thanks Dance Central!) They were perfectly in sync. I was impressed.

Later my little man took me aside and revealed his fears about his friends finding out that he liked to dance. He is worried that they will  laugh at him. That they will think he is weird.

Sigh.

He has never cared what others thought of him. Ever. He has been his own man since he could walk.

Of course I understand. I’ve been there. Oh, haven’t we all? I gave him a pretty killer mommy pep talk and encouraged him to follow his interests and do what he loves despite what others think. I think he understood. He is an extraordinarily intelligent boy.

This conversation, however, marks a new chapter in my understanding of his development and maturity. I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.

So, until he is ready, this family will only be busting a move in private in front of the Kinect screen.  That’s okay. Mommy has no skills anyway. Seeing me dance in front of his friends? Now that would be WAY MORE embarrassing…

My children are not babies anymore.  They are not toddlers.  They are not first graders.

Oh no, we are so past that.

To say that they are “growing” is such a cliche.  Yet, that is the only word that I can grasp right now to describe this incredible stage of development they are in.

Their needs are changing.  They don’t need me in that way anymore.

They don’t need me in the room to protect them from choking hazards. They don’t need me to pour them a drink or make them a snack. They can even get dressed by themselves and make their own beds. (That being said, brushing their teeth is still a stretch.  With males it is best to visually verify that this task has been accomplished or ewww… )

What they seem to need now is a little room and a little space to discover.  They need me to interact with them and appreciate them and help them to sort their emotions and reasoning out.  They need me to spend time talking and dreaming with them. They need me to admire their Lego model and investigate their hypothesis.  They need me to listen to them read their Goosebumps books and sing along to their favorite Big Time Rush and Selena Gomez songs.  They need me to corroborate that yes, in fact, Phineas and Ferb is one of the best shows ever made for television viewing.

In doing all of these things I am able to witness their evolution.

Like all stages in their lives so far, there are incredible moments that take my breath away.  More subtle than the “oh-my-gosh-did-you-see-him-walk!?” phase.  These moments are windows into their future selves.  The hint of sarcastic humor. The clear indication of a future passion. I am addicted to these moments.

Yes, it is true that my kids don’t need me in that way anymore.  Surprisingly, I don’t even care. Whatever way they need me is fine by me.