Not ready for son’s double-digit birthday
In a few short days, my baby will be turning ten years old. I am not ready for him to be hitting double digits. I was not ready for the permission slip that came home about the puberty talk. I am not ready for him to go to middle school.
The problem is not at all with him, but with Mom. Mom is not ready.
Son, I have watched you successfully navigate all of the curveballs that have been thrown at you in life. You have come out the other side of your parents’ divorce a happy, healthy, young man. You have accepted new members into your family with open arms. You have added a bonus Dad (or S’Dad – stepdad as you call him), and a pseudo-little sister that drives you up the wall, as all good little sisters should do. You have a bonus set of grandparents that you are happy to hug and yell, “Love you!” as they depart. You are filled with so much love. You have lost three family pets over the course of your short life, and today you are putting your 14-year-old Molly dog to sleep. You are handling it better than your Mom is; you are strong and caring and kind. You insisted on a funeral for our 15-year-old cat that we lost, and now you worry about how and where Molly will find for her final resting place. You are compassionate and you are empathetic. Your heart is huge.
You are so smart and talented, and you constantly inspire me. Your report card that is covered in A’s and positive comments. The sense of humor you carry in life makes everyone around you smile.
In all seriousness, how have you been in my life for a decade? It seems like you just got here. And I will probably say the same thing when you put on your suit for Prom. And repeat those sentiments when you put on your cap and gown for graduation. And then your wedding. Ugh.
I think instead of celebrating your “lasts” – like how this is your last elementary Christmas concert, your last few days being in single-digits … I should be celebrating your firsts. Your first year in double digits. Your first dance. Your first time driving. Your first date.
I will bake you a cake and sing you a first date song.
I hope you never lose the endearing qualities that I so admire. I hope you always have the same charisma and concern for others. I hope you always smile bright and laugh loudly. I hope you always try things even when they seem ridiculous. I hope you always want to show me a funny video or meme that made you laugh. I hope you always like your Mom as much as you do right now.
Thankfully your friends don’t read the newspaper so you won’t be (too) embarrassed. Regardless of who reads, I want you to know I am proud of you, that you are wonderful, and I love you with my whole heart. Happy birthday, son.