With rare exceptions I was never allowed to watch horror movies as a child. Maybe that's why the mildly PG-rated handful I did watch etched themselves in my mind. I remember vividly a movie called, "Invasion of the Body Snatchers." In the 1978 version of the movie, a young, Donald Sutherland with a giant, curly fro played an everyman named Mathew. He and his wife Elizabeth confront an unusual, sinister reality that people all around them are being replaced by emotionless, robot versions of themselves while they sleep. Whilst the unsuspecting victim innocently slept, a whole duplicate of their body formed under their bed in a disgusting pod that started small and eventually, morphed and bubbled into their emotionless doppelgänger in a translucent shell. Somehow the characters Mathew and Elizabeth discover the secret. But what was the impossible alternative to being replaced? Don't sleep. Oh the movie was so stressful. Mathew and Elizabeth ran around with bloodshot eyes, sleepless and delirious as zombies while they fought to avoid the inevitable. I don't even think the movie ended well. Eventually, Mathew nodded off and was replaced and poor Elizabeth was left exhausted to create her epilogue in your imagination as the credits rolled. It was terrifying.
Eventually, all parents live some version of this movie when their child morphs into someone else entirely: the teenager. Oh you can try to stop it by taking endless pictures and videos, saving baby clothes, or kissing those sleeping pink cheeks and dimpled hands endlessly. But one day, quicker than you want or expect, inevitably you walk into find someone new is sleeping in your child's bed. Experienced parents try to warn you but there is nothing that really prepares you for your new, big stranger.
My story started with a mother and her preemie son. My Andy. He started small but with a lot of breastfeeding, he quickly became a fat, round, serious-faced extension of my own body. I carried him everywhere so that he would avoid the mortal danger that always awaited him on the floor with his toddler sister. One day Andy, who we nicknamed 'Big Boy,' started talking, though not a lot. Everything Big Boy said had "a lil bit" added onto it. With the aforementioned serious plump face, out would come, "I love you a lil bit" or, "Can I watch Thomas (the train) a lil bit?" It's not by accident that God gives the mother the child that will completely, utterly, devastatingly, and irretrievably melt her. He did it to me. I was hooked.
Andy grew into a confident, quiet boy who never talked about his day but would lovingly, yet casually, sling his arm around my shoulders at random opportunities. I was Andy's girl. I turned around and it was his 13th birthday. He invited me to the arcade, just me and him. We took silly pictures in the picture booth and retrieved the set of three black and white pictures of us as a souvenir. I thought, "Having a teenager isn't so bad."
It was the last time I was invited anywhere.
The transformation didn't happen over night. Oh no. Get ready. You, the parent, are the frog in the cold water while the teenager's changing brain is gradually turning the heat up. Just like in the Bodysnatchers that brain changes and their legs grow while they sleep. Did you know it's developmentally appropriate for your child to begin craving novel voices while finding your voice annoying? All of this happens in their brain as nothing changes in yours. I was and am still irretrievably and helplessly smitten with Andy.
Months after his 13th birthday, my attempts at communicating outside of Andy's basic needs began to be rebuffed. So I took to hanging out in Andy's room when he wasn't there. I'd hang clothes or fuss over and tidy his belongings pretending that I had some necessity or right to be in a place where I wouldn't be welcome if its occupant was home. It's how I stayed connected. I could also pay for things and sit in the bleachers and watch him get smashed by other giant teenagers in football.
One day I went into 15 year old Andy's room to find all 6 feet of him laying flat on his back on his bed with his eyes gazing at his little iPhone screen. The transformation was complete. Andy was still my Andy, but not really.
"Andy? I want to go on special time with you again."
"Why?" his eyes still glued to that mini screen like a fly to a light bulb.
"Well because I want to just connect and spend time with you."
"Nicky (17 year old sister) never does anything with you. Why do I have to?"
I gently reminded him that Nicky does indeed let me take her shopping when I'm paying and there's something expensive she wants.
In agitation and to get fully back to TikTok, he relented. Still looking deeply into the recesses of the iPhone he said, "Ok. Dr. Strange part 2 comes out in a few months, maybe we could go to that."
My heart soared as I thought of Andy and I sharing a popcorn and a theater just like old times. I absolutely hate all the Marvel movies but I always went because he wanted me there. Maybe he'd even say a few sentences about what he liked about the movie when it was over. We'd be talking.
Two months later my fingers joyfully texted Andy, "The movie comes out this Friday,"
Silence
"I promise to buy popcorn and treats and not talk at all."
Crickets
Apparently, I should have payed attention to the "maybe" part of that invitation as I was later unceremoniously and emotionlessly uninvited. I ended up buying treats and tickets for Andy and my replacement, his best friend Teigen.
When I tell veteran parents about these experiences, they smile and shake their head up and down in remembrance, "ah yes I remember those days. Don't worry, they will come back." But I guess they come back when they leave the house...they're all grown up. Apparently this is just a phase like the terrible twos. I guess I can just be thankful that in this experience there is only one person that changed. I still get to love on Andy. Though instead of hugs, holding hands, and cuddles, I love on him by making his food, doing his laundry, and getting out of his way. He was meant to grow up. Parenting gives you the lovely opportunity to unconditionally love your big stranger because you know somewhere in there is still your little guy. Letting go was always part of the plan. Even if it hurts, "just a lil bit."
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