This number is one that even some other people recognize as a moment to pause. Those hands that clutched Matchbox cars will soon seek larger wheels. Those cool metallic colors will be set aside for two potentially uncool minivans. There is enough little boy left in our son to make the number sixteen seem acceptable...
...but the fact that he is now only two years away from eighteen and high school graduation is what stops me cold. I am so excited and curious to see this young man he is becoming, but for once in my life I am willing to be patient. I am content to watch his journey, cheering and butting in as I see fit. (And making him pose for photos, of course.)
In the video taken minutes after this boy was born, I can be heard saying "Is he okay? Am I okay?" I don't think there has been a single day in the past sixteen years when that same thought has not run through my mind. Think about any job you've had and the training process that has accompanied it. Didn't you feel like you made progress as the days went by, until you ultimately knew what you were doing? I keep wondering if my skill set for this motherhood gig will ever feel complete, or even satisfactory, someday. I remember my friend, Julie, telling me once that we are always an expert at the stage our children have just outgrown. That pretty much sums things up nicely.
I remember thinking all I was going to have to do to be a good mother was love my kids.
|Naive, sleep deprived woman|