Eleven

At 3:23 today, I was frantically trying to get back to the office so that I could get home to get your brother off the bus, pick you up, and frost the cake.  There were balloons to buy and pizza to order, phone calls to return, and the rest of the everyday stuff that happens on a Wednesday night.

Eleven years ago, this was not the case.  While the entire country was waiting on hanging chads and all the emphasis was on "every vote mattering", I was waiting for something else entirely. In fact, I had been waiting for 32 hours.  For the last 32 hours I had gone without food, without sleep, and for 22 of those hours, without medication.  And then, at 3:23, my wait was over.

7 pounds 6 ounces of wait, perfectly embodied in a rosy pink and purplish baby boy, with wrinkly feet and the sharpest of teeny tiny fingernails.  The bruise on your head from your epic battle with my pelvic bone lasted about as long as your slate blue eyes.  Over the month, the bruise faded to a perfect complexion, as did your eyes to the deepest shade of chocolate brown.

I was not ready to be a mother. 

Yes, I planned you. 

Yes, I had every thing covered.

But I had no idea what I was in for. 

I have watched you go from learning your letters to writing letters.  From typing with one finger to surfing the web with ease. YOU taught me how to cut and paste. You are growing and changing every day right in front of me, weather I like it or not.

You have your own thinking, your own reasoning, your own understanding. Your love of sports amazes me.  You can not remember your homework on the kitchen table, but can recall the stats of everyone on your fantasy football team. And how you can focus on not just the football game, but the pre-game and after show is beyond comprehension.  But, it works for you and that's what matters.

You dance to your own beat, often the one that is heard only in your own head.  You have your own curiosity, and while at times it drives me crazy, please don't ever lose that.  It's our curiosity that keeps us growing, learning, and getting better as people every day.

In two short years you will be an official teenager.  A cranky, hormonal, whiny teenager.  And the older you get, undoubtedly the stupider I will become to you.  I know this, and will love you anyway.

You have 7 years left before you are an adult. Seven more years to be a child.  Seven years to explore new things, think big thoughts, and make many, many mistakes.  Do this as much as you can, because later on all those freedoms you have as a child come with adult responsibilities. 

You do not need to worry, I promise to catch you when you fall.  I will wrap you in my hugs and always give you a safe place to land, because seriously, I have lots of cushion.  But most important, I promise that no matter where you go, or what you do, you can always come home for a snuggle.

I love you buddy.

HaPpY BiRtHdAy!