Each year I write about how X number of years ago it was pouring down rain when Greg and I made the trip to the hospital to welcome our son into the world.
This year I’m thinking about other things
This year I’m thinking about how last week our son got a nosebleed at 2 a.m. and climbed down from his loft bed, got paper towels, stopped the bleeding, washed himself up, gave the dog a pat on the head, and climbed back into bed.
Neither Greg nor I heard a sound.
He didn’t need or want our help.
I’m thinking about how on vacation he rode his bike a very long way before using the radio to call us because he finally realized he was hopelessly lost. I remember how he admitted he had tears in his eyes…but he didn’t ever quite get over the edge into full crying territory. I was scared and proud at the same time. Scared, of course, for obvious reasons – but also proud, because when faced with an emergency he knew what to do, by finding the largest landmark he could, at a high point so the radios would work, staying put, and calling us. I don’t know that we ever told him that was what he needed to do – he just knew.
It’s becoming clear that while he is not yet grown and still needs us now and again, he is most certainly no longer my baby.
I miss that baby sometimes, but I’m so proud of the little man he’s turning out to be.
Ethan, you’re one hell of a kid. I’m so glad I’m your mom.
Happy 7th birthday, son. Yeah, I know it was last Saturday and I’ve been slow about writing lately. But I think you’re cool enough to know how much we love you even if we’re slow to write birthday blog posts.