This morning I woke up feeling mixed emotions.
On one hand, I was excited and proud.
On the other, I felt like I had been punched in the gut.
Every year, I write about the complex emotions I feel on this day. Every year I write about how bittersweet this day is. The day I became a mother.
17 years ago.
17 years.
Before I woke him up this morning, I studied his Almost a Man face. Not a trace of the little boy who I used to hold tightly in my arms. "He looks so much like his father now. Where did the time go?" I thought.
Then, strangely, all of his "firsts" came rushing to mind. His first breath, his first time sleeping through the night. His first tooth. His first steps. His first words. His first day in Kindergarten. Then, I thought of all of the firsts still to come. His first job, his first paycheck, his first broken heart.
How lucky I am. I have this incredibly kind, hilarious, talented son that I've had the pleasure of raising for the past 17 years. His possibilities are endless! His future is bright! It's very exciting and I should be SO DAMN HAPPY.
And I am. I truly am.
At the same time... wasn't it just yesterday that I was cradling him in my arms while rocking him to sleep? Wasn't it just yesterday that we were discussing who his favorite Power Ranger is? Now, we're discussing prom and his future in law enforcement.
You can understand why my heart is so conflicted, yes?
By the time I climbed in the van to take The Birthday Boy to school, I was a bit of an emotional wreck. "My baby is almost a man! My heart can't take this!" I thought to myself as I watched him climb into the car.
*****
"You need a haircut." I said, as we were pulling up to the school.
"I can't get one, mom." he responded
"What do you mean you can't get a haircut?"
"I made a bet."
"A bet? Oh Lord..."
"If I get a bowl cut, Jordan is going to give me $10."
I think I said something like "you realize if you get a bowl cut, you'll have to shave your head to fix things, right?"
"I know, Mom." He said, in a Very Annoyed Tone.
I wished him a Happy Birthday as he got out of the car.
"That pretty much sums up the experience of having a 17 year old son right there." I thought to myself.
And then I laughed. And I laughed all the way home.
Because, my son is 17 years old. And while while 17 year olds think they're so smart and know more than you do about life, he's still just childlike enough to agree to a bet that involves GETTING BOWL CUT.
Happy Birthday, my sweet baby boy. I do love you more than you could possibly even begin to understand.
good thing I have my kleenex right here. beautiful post!