Today is a bittersweet day. Fifteen years ago, I greeted my first child. Bleary eyed and exhausted, I looked at him in awe. It seemed unbelievable that this cute little wonder had come from me.
However cute, he was still two weeks late and in no hurry to come out on his own. To this day, very little gets his sense of time in a huff.
Today, I saw not a cute little cherub with a gap in his front teeth and chocolate on his chin. Rather, I saw a handsome young man, taller than both his father and I, full of adolescent muscles and fuzzy facial hair. I saw a young man with a teenage strut and shoulder chip. A young man confident in having the world by the tail and the bull by the horns. A young man way short on sleep and grumpy with it. A young man who will be asking for the truck keys in only a month.
Just yesterday, he was climbing in my lap for a cuddle and a kiss. Today, he comes from behind to rub my shoulders and tell me to slow down.
Just yesterday, he brought his ouchies for kisses that only mom could give. Today, he takes his injuries out on the kid across the line or opposing him in the circle and wears the dripping blood as a badge of honor. The cotton wad up the nose is always a nice touch too.
Just yesterday, he greeted me with a joyous "Mommy!" Today, my "Yo, D" to catch his attention on the fly gets a "Yo Mama" in response. (And inspires a dual-sided fit of giggles!)
I'm so thankful I can still laugh and giggle with my little boy; that he hasn't outgrown me completely; that he will still tell me he loves me while on the phone from a friend's house.
Happy Birthday, young man of mine. I'm proud of you in ways you will never understand until you are a parent yourself. I love you with all my heart and am continually awestruck with the person you are becoming.