My love for my children is divided equally.
One is not more loved than the other, but they each possess unique traits that make them special to me.
G is special because she is the daughter I never thought I would have. When she came into our lives, she brought a fresh, new joy to our family that was much needed.
The Middle Child is special because he was the brother we always wanted our first son to have. And he came into this world with Personality and character. He was a Momma’s Boy from the very start. To this day, I think of the way he would squish my face with his chubby little hands and say “I just yuv you SO MUCH Mommy. Your SO booful, Mommy.” when he was just a little guy and it my heart will expand 10 sizes.
The Teenager. (Let’s see if I can get through this one without doing The Ugly Cry.) That boys is special to me for many reasons, but mostly, because he is the baby that made me a mother. I was only 22 years old when he came into my life exactly 16 years ago today.
Being his mother has never felt difficult. As a baby, he was easy in every sense. And 16 years later, that is still very true. Sure, things have become a bit more complicated now that he’s a teenager. He’s NOT perfect. However, my son has a good heart and a desire to do the right thing.

I’m a lucky Mom in that way.
I am going to end this by re-posting a portion of what I wrote on his 13th birthday. Because 3 years later, the emotions I expressed in that post still hold true.

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On Monday morning, we packed our 6th graders bags into our van and headed off in the pouring rain to school at 5 in the morning. It was the day he would leave for 6th grade camp.
When I was in 6th grade, I wasn’t allowed to go to 6th grade camp. (“You only want to go to chase the BOYS!”) I was one of 5 kids to stay behind. I hated every minute of that week. And I hated the following week even more. I had to listen to everyone talk about how much fun it was! The campfires! The songs! The plays! Ugh. I always said I would never deprive my children of such experiences. So when we moved to a new school district last year and found out there would be 6th grade camp at the new school, there was no question in my mind he would go. If he wanted to go. (Which, of course he did.)
We were all excited about the trip– it was the topic of dinner conversations pretty much every night. And then over the weekend, we went shopping to get everything he needed for the trip. Flashlights, rain ponchos, disposable cameras, water bottles and so on and so forth.
“Are you excited?” I’d ask him. Every 5 minutes.
“I’m so excited, Mom!” He say. Every time.
And as it got closer, he’d add “but I’m also nervous.”
“Why?” I’d ask. “You’re going to have so much fun! No need to be nervous.”
“But I’m going to miss home.” He’d say.
And I’d fight back the tears and try to be strong and say something supportive like “We’re going to miss you too, but you know what? The time is going to fly and you’re going to have so much fun, you won’t miss us once you’re there.”
Then, I’d hug him.
On Sunday night, after we packed everything and double checked the bag at least 20 times, I kissed him good night, shut his door and went straight to my room to write him a letter.
You see, every time my children leave to go on any kind of a trip without me I write them a letter and tuck it away in their bag where they’ll find it when they unpack. It started as a way for me to deal with the emotion of sending my boys on a trip without me, and ended up being a tradition that they love and look forward to.
As I was writing his letter, I began to get nervous. This was the first trip he’d go on where he wasn’t with a family member. This was the first trip in which I WOULD NOT HAVE CONTACT WITH HIM FOR THREE ENTIRE DAYS. It was the first time I felt apprehension about letting him go. Up until that point, it was like “it will be a great experience! He’ll have wonderful memories to carry with him for the rest of his life!” I think it’s natural to be nervous and feel over protective when your children are going to be out of your care. The trick is to know when that fear is warranted and when to take a deep breath and let them experience and enjoy life.
After I finished the letter and tucked it away in his bag and headed off to bed. Four hours later, I was kneeling by his bed, whispering in his ear.
“Wake up, dude. It’s time to leave for camp!”
He opened one eye. “Already?”
“Yep. Why don’t you go eat breakfast. We have to leave in 20 minutes.”
The morning went by smoothly, because for the first time in maybe EVER, I had everything ready to go. There was no frantic running around the house saying “BUT WHERE IS THIS? AND WHERE IS THAT? AND OH MY GOD I CAN’T FIND THAT ONE THING I REALLY NEED.” I think I need to try the whole “Being Organized” thing more often.
We arrived at the school at 5:20. It was freezing cold and it was pouring rain. I could tell The Boy was excited, but also nervous. I did my best to assure him he was going to have the Most! Fun! Ever!
“I know I will.” He said. “I’m just going to miss home.”
(My heart! It hurt!)
Once we entered the multipurpose room, there were what seemed like hundreds of kids in there. He found his friends and they all gave each other fist bumps and secret handshakes while they laughed and talked about the trip. I knew in that instant he was going to be just fine.
When it was time for the kids to get on the bus, I hugged him, kissed him and said all of the motherly things to him “have fun! Be careful! Stay with your group at all times! I LOVE YOU!”
“Love you too, Mom. Love you Dad.” He said and then he disappeared into the big yellow bus.
The entire drive home, we talked about how much we were going to miss him, but how thrilled we were that he was going to have this awesome experience. But after I got home and the hours passed by, I begin to dwell on the fact that I won’t be able to have any contact with him or be able to see him for 3 ENTIRE DAYS.
I finally cried.
All last night, I kept turning to Tony and saying things like “do you think he’ll be warm enough tonight?” “Did we pack him enough socks?” “What if he hates the food and is hungry?”
And today, I’m missing him something FIERCE. Maybe I’m a freak of a mother, but I’m not liking this whole “not being able to talk to my kid at least once a day to make sure he’s okay” business. Deep down, I know he’s fine and that he IS having the experience of his short little life time, so I take comfort in that.
Luckily, it’s only a three day trip, so he’ll be home tomorrow. I don’t think my heart could stand an entire week of this.
.

On the 3rd of this month, my first born child turned 15 1/2 years old.
He’s now old enough to get a drivers and a workers permit. He’s only 2 1/2 years away from legal adulthood. Soon enough, I’ll be able to hand him my car keys and say “go ahead and take the van to practice. BUT DON’T SPEED! And check your rear view mirror before making lane changes! And always use your signals! And don’t be flipping anyone off because there are crazy people out there who will shoot you! Oh, hell. Never mind, I’ll take you. Next time I’ll let you drive yourself, ok?”
I’m feeling very torn up inside over this. Like, if you were to call me and bring it up, I would probably do that thing where I would act like I was totally cool and not going to cry. My voice would crack and I would have to clear my throat and you’d be all “are you ok?” And I’d be all “I’m FINE!” And then two minutes later, I’d be full on sobbing because “I didn’t know he was going to grow up this fast! If I had known, I would have been more careful to remember every little detail about his childhood because I CAN’T REMEMBER WHAT HE SAID THAT ONE TIME IN KINDERGARTEN THAT MADE ALL OF THE TEACHERS LAUGH AND WHY DIDN’T I WRITE THAT IN A BABY BOOK SOMEWHERE?” And then you’d feel all awkward and try to think of excuses to hang up on me and you’d just shut the cell phone and email me later that night saying something like “Sorry about that. I was driving through a tunnel on that one road, you know, down there next to that one road that you wouldn’t know about anyway and our call got cut off because there’s no reception in that tunnel and damn if I still can’t get any service. I’ll try calling you sometime next year though ok?”
Fifteen and a half.
Yesterday, he was standing near the kitchen counter as I was putting dishes away. He was looking out the window while playing the air drums and humming a song. I stopped what I was doing and just watched him. I could see little traces of the sweet natured little baby that I once held in my arms, but mostly I saw a boy on the verge of adulthood and it took my breath away. Time stood still in that moment. And in my mind, I saw a slideshow of the years passing me by. I saw him sitting on the table at his first birthday party in his blue and white checkered jump suit as the family sang Happy Birthday to him. I saw him in his OshKosh overalls and tiny little cowboy boots. I saw him jumping around the living room doing “tricks” in his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle jumpsuit that I had bought for $2.00 at a thrift shop. I heard his soft little voice singing “You Are My Sunshine” while we drove around town doing errands. I saw his scared little eyes as I walked away, leaving him for the very first time at kindergarten. I saw him accepting his first (of many) citizenship awards in first grade. I saw him walking away from my car as I dropped him off at his first day of junior high. And then, I blinked and he was fifteen and a half.
It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that he will be driving soon. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that he will be applying for a workers permit soon. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that he will be bringing home a paycheck soon. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that he sort of kind of has a girlfriend who texts and calls him 80 times a day and that “dating” is just around the corner. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that graduation is less than 2 school years away. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that when I first started this blog he looked like this:

And 6 years later, he looks like this:

Fifteen and a half years– I knew that day would come eventually. I just had no idea it would come so quickly nor did I have any idea of the emotional punch it would pack.

Do you remember what it was like as a kid the night before you were going somewhere exciting, like Disneyland (or a bible convention where all of the Cute Boys Who Loved Jesus AND making out behind the nursery would be?) You would toss and turn and look at the clock every three minutes wondering if it was time to wake up and go already?
That was me last night. Only, I wasn’t going to Disneyland in the morning. Oh no, I was going to drive my first born son to his first day of high school.
I could not stay asleep no matter how hard I tried. My mind was racing with nervous thoughts for him.
Will he find his friends? Will he sit alone at lunch? Will he got lost on the big campus?
I really have held it together quite well considering I am one of Those Moms who cry about every little milestone in their kids lives. (For instance, last night Gabby drew her first recognizable happy face. I could feel myself getting all emotional as she made two round little eyes. When she was finished, I looked at her little happy face and said “where are the ears, sweetie?” And she drew two little round ears in the right spot and I flipping lost it. “Oh my God, she drew ears, Tony. EARS!”. Seriously, I cried over the drawing of ears, people.)
I woke up a little before 5, got dressed and did an hour of work before I woke the kids up.
At 5:45 I heard Andrew walking down the hall.
“Why are you up already?”
“I couldn’t sleep, mom.”
“Are you nervous?”
“No! I’m excited. I can’t wait.”
That was comforting to me and truth be told, I was nervous enough for both of us.
I made breakfast, made lunches, made sure the boys had everything they needed, woke Gabby up, got her dressed and out the door we went.
I have always had a little tradition of taking the boys pictures with their backpacks on the first day of school. Today, I ALMOST forgot.
“Oh my God, I need to get the camera! Wait here while I get the camera!” I shouted.
There was lots of eye rollage and sighs of disgust because “MoooooOOOoM!”
I ran inside and grabbed the camera despite the boys begging and whining that I just “forget about the stupid camera.”
Normally, when I take pictures, I’ll snap a shot, look at it and make sure it came out alright. Today, I didn’t do that. I just snapped the camera and off we went.
As we were getting closer to Andrew’s school, we started to see groups of kids walking towards the building. Andrew started fidgeting in his seat. I could tell he was starting to get nervous.
“You ok?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Well, I’m starting to get a little nervous now.”
And it was in that moment that the gravity of what was happening sucker punched me in the heart and took my breath away.
I had dreamt about this moment from the first time I held that baby boy in my arms. I truly had. And here it was happening sooner than I had ever imagined. My son, the sweet little boy who used to sit on my lap and giggle uncontrollably while I made funny faces. That innocent little toddler, who once held my hand, looked up at me with the biggest smile on his face and said “I love you so much, I want to marry you mommy.” That little guy isn’t so little anymore. He’s now an awkwardly handsome dude with a man voice who rolls his eyes when I ask him to pick up his clothes off of the floor because that’s what High Schooler’s do when their moms get all up in their business and ask them to get off of their ass for TWO SECONDS to pick up their mess.
As I pulled up to the curb to let him off, I could feel the flood of emotions rising within me and I wished so badly that I could shout “FREEZE!” and make time stop if only for a minute. I just wanted to look at that boy and remember how it felt the first time I held him in my arms and compare it to how it felt to be sitting there next to him in all of his teenage glory about to let him go into the big, exciting world of high school.
I put the car in park and I asked him how he was feeling one last time before he got out of the car.
“I’m nervous, but I’ll be fine, Mom.”
“I know you will be. Have fun, baby. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
And with that, he shut the door behind him and began to walk towards the campus and into a new chapter in his life. I watched him walk away in the rear view mirror, just in case he turned around to wave goodbye.
He didn’t.
I continued to watch him as he walked further away from me and closer to his new adventure in life. Suddenly he disappeared into the sea of teenagers.
A sea of emotions washed over my body.
Panic. Excitement. Anxiety. Pride.
Then came the tears. Finally, the tears.
“Only four more years”. I said out loud as I cried.
Four more years and my little dude will be an adult.
That when Ethan decided to chime in.
“Are you CRYING? Oh my GOD, why are you crying, Mom?!”
“Yes, I’m crying. I’m crying so hard because that is my baby boy, Ethan. The little baby boy that made me a mother and I still remember the day he was born and I just can’t believe that in just 4 short years, he’s going to be an adult and EXCUSE ME FOR LIVING, BUT I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO CRY ABOUT THAT.”
He shrugged his shoulders and said “Well, I just think it’s dumb that you’re crying about this.”
Nothing like the brutal honesty of a 10 year old to ruin a moment.
I was able to get a grip and turn off the tears in time to walk Ethan to his first day of 5th grade. I think that he secretly felt bad for me and understood why I was crying because as I was leaving, he said “I love you, Mom” and walked over to give me a kiss.
A kiss! From my 5th grader! In front of his friends!
He’ll never know how much I needed that kiss.
He’ll also never know that as soon as I got home, I ran inside to upload pictures I snapped of them on their way to school and that as soon as I saw them I started to cry again because OH MY GOD LOOK AT MY BOYS THEY AREN’T BABIES ANYMORE AND WAH IT HURTS MY LITTLE HURT SO BAD.