Growing up...

It's been a tough old year this one, in terms of child-rearing, I mean.

What with the 'C' words: Cannabis, Cussing, Cigarettes, 'Can I have some more money for petrol?', 'Can't be arsed to revise!'...

And we've made it through to this, the last exam of my son's school career was on Friday, and he's been out Clubbing all weekend since to Celebrate.

And I feel utterly relieved. A bit flat even after all the drama, the Crises, the Complaints and the Crapilola... Now, we have to wait until August for his results to come through.

I shall have my fingers and toes crossed until then. I'll not bother crossing my eyes for luck, as it makes crossing the roads a little too dicey...

And he has so much high emotion riding on what he wants to do, with two University places waiting for him... (Forgive me for posting so little here, as things have been very fraught... Chaotic, to say the least.)

We had a very low moment a couple of weeks back, and I launched into Good Samaritan Mother Mode, to reel off my personal mantra...

I wanted Grizzles to understand, you see, that it isn't 'the end of it all' if he doesn't quite get the grades he wanted... There are always other options in life, aren't there? And, as much as I'd love him to go to Uni, as I had the luck to do, (and let's face it, the Chance of him getting a decent job in today's Cramped Climate are pretty slender), but his lovely life won't end if he doesn't enter the hallowed Ivory Towers of Academia.

We will Cope. We will Continue to support his Choices. Help him into his future. Whatever that bright future will be...

And so, we averted that Crisis within him. We left with him feeling a little more hopeful, more optimistic, about things... At least temporarily...

I've been growing leeks, did you know?

Show-leeks. Prize leeks. For our local pub's Leek Club Competition... You would not believe how Competitive people can be. I'm only doing it for a laugh - The Craic, as it were - so it's great fun for me...

It's been particularly engrossing, as I plant and replant little baby leeks - They're called sets, I believe... The wonderfully wise and ancient old leek grower who sold me the leeks, laughed indulgently when I called them 'my Baby Leeks'...

So, on Thursday evening I was on duty again, standing with my bare feet planted on the warm ground of my little patio, making sure that my 16 thriving babies were getting enough water, deluging the marshy creatures generously with the garden hose. Water running silver in the clear shafts of evening light.

And I glimpsed my Grizz through the window, sitting at his full 6ft 5" length over most of the wide sofa, dwarfing the living room, squinting at the telly... The Simpsons must have been on.

And I glanced at the growing leeks, and I looked back at him. And I blushed, full of Mother's Pride and Poetry at how golden, how beautiful, how big, he has turned out. This man-child of mine, on the threshold of another new beginning in his life.