January 18, 2011

the man child

My baby boy is a man. Somewhere between giving birth to him on the bedroom floor in 1993 and sending him off to school this morning with a laptop, a guitar, a case of M&M’s and his car keys, he grew up.

And can I just say . . .
I HATE IT.

It was different with his sister. She was my first. It was critical to my maternal self-worth that she become independent early. Like somehow my "mom-value" increased when she learned, at the age of 4, that Carson City was the capital of Nevada and that, when doing laundry, you don’t wash darks with whites.

But not so baby boy. I don’t care if you think my son is brainy or talented (though he is), and I don’t care if he is ready to face the adult world (though he is that too - mostly). I just want him to let me cuddle him and scratch his back and be his mommy.


I miss when he ate peas with his fingers and his socks matched his tee shirts and he brought me Lego creations and said, “Mommy, LOOK!” and he thought girls had cooties and he couldn’t wait to spend the night at Nana & Papa’s house and he wore Lion King underwear and his birthday cakes were topped with gummy worms.

Sigh.

Happy birthday, man child.
I love you and I am so proud of you.

4 comments:

mnpolutta said...

You and your daughter have both made me cry today with your beautiful posts. Happy Birthday, Kevin!

E.T.'s Mom said...

Happy Birthday, Kevin!

Sara said...

Happy Birthday Kev! You are the best! I'm proud of who you are!

HW said...

Sweeet Mercy. I love this.
Happy Birthday to your boy.

And is that red hair I see in those photos? Mine's a redhead too (when he lets it grow)

What is it about these boys and their mamas...?
*sigh*