Happy Birthday "A"!

I can't believe we have a 17 year old now! How is that possible?! It seems like yesterday that I was kissing his tiny fingers and breathing in his sweet baby scent. Now I stand on tiptoe to kiss a beard grizzled cheek and breathe in a whiff of Cool Water. The little boy who loved to run and tackle his daddy, who belly laughed himself into hysterics over wrestling and "pinning" Daddy, now towers over his Dad. The two of them a sweaty knot of arms and legs rolling from the living room to the dining room, then into the yard and down the grassy hill. Panting, laughing, grasping for a better hold; neither one willing to concede defeat. The camaraderie borne of years of playful tussles followed by exhausted, testosterone-laced banter. "You did good, Bubbie!" "I let you beat me, Dad. I know how embarrassing it would be for you to be beat-down by your kid." "HA!! WhatEVER!! Did you already forget how that choke hold felt? When everything started getting a little fuzzy around the edges? Remember that!?" "Yeah, yeah...I had plenty of air. I was just laying there thinking of a way to break your hold!" Watching my two biggest boys play together makes me smile from deep inside. And a little piece of my Mama-heart starts to crack with the realization that all too soon this man-child, who so completely captured our hearts 17 years ago, will no longer be lying in wait to ambush his unsuspecting father at the end of the day. He won't be here to send us all into fits of laughter over his daily antics. No more daily hugs from this silly teen who insists he can't get too many hugs from his Mom. Instead, we'll be trying to find contentment in sporadic text messages and infrequent emails. We'll look forward to hearing his voice on the phone, and count the weeks, the days, the hours until he'll be home for a visit.

We've entered the transition years, and I both hate it and love it. Our goal has been to raise independent, kind, thoughtful young adults who love the Lord and are ready to head out into the world and make a difference for Him. But there's a part of me that wishes they didn't have to leave home in order to do it. Despite the occasional desire to scream like a Banshee or run away for a few days, I really enjoy raising our kids. So, I rejoice in the gift of another year with our firstborn and place my trepidation about the "letting go" to come in the capable hands of my loving Father.

(The car A wishes we'd gotten him for his birthday! Dream on, Bubbie!)