My middle son, formerly a wild-child-rebel-without-a-clue, appears to have turned into a grownup, seemingly overnight.

This thought occurred to me as I was following him to his home yesterday afternoon. I’d volunteered to babysit his fiance’s kids so that he and my soon-to-be daughter-in-law could have a night out for some quality time sans children.

This was the kid that liked hot rods and big trucks, yet here I was driving behind him, now following a vehicle I ever imagined him driving.

Suburban Assault Vehicle, aka the minivan…

How times have changed for this kid. I have to give him huge props for turning his life around this year. Prior to what I refer to as his “unfortunate incarceration,” he was running with a rough bunch. This group of “friends” played a large part in that particular situation. Now, 11 months after his release from the county jail, my son’s life is not what it once was.

In the three months immediately following his release, my husband and I put him up in what had once been his room, with the understanding that if he was going to stay here, there were going to be some ground rules that had to be followed. By late June it was apparent that this “kid” wasn’t really making a tremendous (read: any) effort to do anything but stay up late, sleep in, and hang out with his girlfriend and a different group of friends than the ones he had been keeping company prior to his arrest. Time for some tough love. We told him he had to find a place and get on his feet because we weren’t going to be accommodating him anymore. Yes, we knew about the conditions of his probation, about the curfew, the whole nine yards, but it was time for him to grow a pair and man up. During the first months after he moved back out we would get phone calls because he needed something. It was unheard of to simply get a phone call or text because he just wanted to say hello.

Fast forward to the present…

This  young man has paid off his probation fees in full, his curfew has been lifted, and is raising a family. Yes, a family with kids. His fiance has four, all under the age of six. I honestly never would have thought that this party animal would be willing to give up the wild life in favor of taking care of a family, but apparently that is exactly what happened.

I am ridiculously proud of him! When we told him he had to go last summer, we were actually doing him a favor, although none of us really saw it as such at the time. In the post I linked to above, I mentioned that his father and I didn’t raise him to be on the wrong side of the law, and while he hit a few speed bumps, I prefer to think that it was a phase and that of the hard work that went into raising these boys is finally paying off. These days when I get a phone call or text (or even a Facebook PM), I am asked how I’m doing, when can we come for dinner, and both he and Amanda stayed in touch during January’s boobie scare.

That said, when the two of them get married, my son not only gets the title of “husband,” but “father,” as well.

And no, it’s not lost on me that I default to “grandma.” 🙂

Until next time…