I shudder even to write the word. At least I have a year before the dreaded teenageness starts!
Twelve years ago I was in labor with Thing One, feeling my belly contracting painfully around him, walking lap after lap of our apartment complex with Himself trying to get that baby to move down toward the damned exit already. Finally went to the hospital around 1AM and he came squalling into the world after three good pushes at 9:17AM, all pink and beautiful and healthy at 7 pounds, 3 ounces.
Sitting here in the quiet looking at his old photo albums and getting soggy-eyed. How could this little man
have become THIS not-nearly-so-little man
in only a dozen short years???
He's twelve today. A rising seventh grader, probably 5'3" or so with size 10.5 feet and weighing in at about 110 lbs; a veritable bouncing puppy of a boy. The baby who used to be the undisputed king of the evening witching hour (I don't think Himself and I were able to sit down to dinner together once in the first four months of his life!) has turned into my sweet, easygoing boy who can roll with pretty much anything. Same big brown eyes, same goofy smile, same impish sense of humor, just now of a size where I no longer have to bend much in order to kiss the top of his head anymore.
Happy birthday to my first baby, even if he isn't much of a baby anymore. Mama loves you more than you will ever be able to comprehend before you have kids of your own. And happy Mom-birthday to me!
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