Sixteen

My son is sixteen years old today. My baby boy – no – my young man, is sixteen.

Remember sixteen, and all that came with it? I had so much fun at sixteen.

I won’t go on again about that tiny bundle I held so many years ago. I write about my son every year, and that seems to make it into the story every time. A mom will treasure that moment for a lifetime, but at some point her child does grow up.

As proud as I am of my boy, the thought makes me a bit wibbly (and, yes, he will always be my “boy”, no matter how old he is).

I’ve been writing a birthday journal entry about my son since he was seven. Most of them are in my private journal.  I’ve looked at all of them today because I’m truly at a loss for what to say on his sixteenth birthday.

I could pour all the motherly love and memories in the world into my entry, but that doesn’t convey what it means to be sixteen, nor does it make this day stand out from any other day. I love him just as much the rest of the year ‘round. I could write “a letter to my sixteen-year-old-self” for my son to read, in hopes of saving him the troubles I experienced and mistakes I made, but the maternal curse is real and he is living proof. He would nod and smile, feign attention, but take it with more than just a grain of salt, because it comes from his mother (as healthy as our relationship may be). He has to see for himself.

So, after sixteen years, I find myself looking at the young man I’ve raised. I’m the luckiest mother in the world and couldn’t ask for a better son.

Happy Birthday, my teenboy. I hope you have as much fun at sixteen as I did. Well…. maybe not that much fun. 😉

Teenboy

A Mother’s Birthday Wishes

Fifteen years ago today I was in the labor room preparing for a long day. I had complications with my pregnancy and we had to induce. On the upside, we knew our son’s birthday well in advance. The downside? There is no labor worse than Pitocin induced labor. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

That aside, fourteen hours later I had a little bundle in my arms.

Ok, this picture was taken the next day, but you get the idea.

Duch and Baby, resting after a tough workout.
Duch and Baby, resting after a tough workout.

 

Today, my little bundle is fifteen. He surpassed my height last year. That doesn’t bother me anymore; in fact, it comes in quite handy. I couldn’t tell you when his voice finished changing – it was such a gradual process we only caught the occasional voice crack. But now he has a deeper voice, and he can hit those deeper, “manly” notes in conversation. Yes, I noticed his voice drops about half-an-octave when he talks to his girlfriend.

The next big milestone is driving. He’s so excited. A part of me is just as excited, but another part of me wants to wrap him up in that bundle and protect him, just as I did when I brought him home fifteen years ago. Alas, he’s grown too big for the baby blanket I still have in the memory box…

Happy Birthday, my teen-boy. I love you with all my heart.

His Dice Bag and his GF by his side.
His Dice Bag and his GF by his side.