Not Quite All Grown Up

This weekend was my 12th anniversary of becoming a mother.

Of course, my oldest ds doesn't think of it that way. He thinks he's had his 12th birthday.

(He also thinks he's going to be a teenager now. Hmph. Over my dead body.)

I have to insist on this being the last year of his childhood in spite of the fact that he is now only 2 inches shorter and 10 pounds lighter than me. "Twelve" does not have the syllable "teen" in it, so he therefore is not a teenager.

Besides, I still have so much to learn from him.

When he was a baby, he taught me just how selfish I am. But also how I really won't die if I only get 4 hours of sleep instead of 8. And how I really MUST learn to trust God for his welfare, ultimately, because I cannot be awake and vigilent 24/7 but God can.

When he was a toddler he taught me that blank walls are one great big canvas and that boys need for the world to be in trouble so that they will have something to save.

When he was in kindergarten he taught me that I am really, really going to embarrass him on the day he goes off to college because then I will be doing all that blubbering in front of his ROOMMATE. Shoot me now.

When he came home to school he taught me that he is very good company and knows more than I thought he did. And that I know less than I thought I did. But I am not too old to learn, for his sake.

I don't know what he will teach me when he is a teenager. But I have a feeling it will be something along the lines of how to let go... how to stretch my heart a little more, to trust God with his welfare even more, to prepare not only him but myself for the day when the boy is gone and the man takes his place.

You are a gift from God, dear oldest son. You have changed my world forever. Happy birthday.