My Child Is Grown?
Today is my oldest child’s 21st birthday and I am incredulous; how did I become a mother of a grown-ass man? I feel like I’m a happy maybe 35-year-old woman, but even in the South, that’s an improbable age gap.
I woke up this morning and asked Jeff if he remembered watching the O.J. Simpson chase while I was laboring. You may remember the white bronco chase through Los Angeles. Jeff wasn’t sure so of course the librarian googled the heck out of it. The chase was June 17 and Jake was born 2 weeks later. When I told my dear husband I distinctly remember laying on the bed, having contractions while watching this breaking news, he said, “maybe you were having those Briggs and Stratton.” Oh yes, the wonderful Briggs and Stratton!
But since those Briggs and Stratton contractions and the O.J. chase we’ve had a wonderful 21 years. Jake is funny, hardworking and smart and has chosen his own path, and I love that bout him. I can’t wait to see where he’ll be or what he’ll be doing in 10 years. I am confident he’ll be living a thoughtful life doing what he has chosen for himself and that is the best kind of life I can hope for him.
The hopes and worries continue, and on day 1 of his legal ability to embibe, I will continue to worry, hope and pray. As I am sure I will continue until his 71st birthday just like in my favorite Robert Munsch book. I especially love the old lady climbing through her 40-year-old sons window under cover of darkness so she can hold him and tell him (get the Kleenex folks):
I’ll love for forever. I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.
Happy birthday to my Jake. As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.