I’m beginning to believe I shall not be rescued
Six thousand nine hundred forty days ago I became a mom.
I have felt every second of those 19 years.
And so here we are. I am the mom of a grown ass adult. While 18 is technically “adult,” 18 is that ephemeral age; not quite kid, not quite adult. But 19, especially 19 and working full time? Hold me, he’s an adult. I MET HIS FATHER WHEN I WAS 19.
I’m sure it’s not the 19th birthday he envisioned, cooped up in the house with his family with no end date in sight, but let’s be honest. Nothing about his life has been “typical,” so why stop now? Why not a global pandemic? I mean, alien invasion would have been more his style, but beggars can’t be choosers, amirite? I’m sure aliens will be here in 2022, when he hits 21 and can blame birthday antics on them instead of adult beverages.
There’s not a whole lot I can say now that 1) I haven’t said before 2) wouldn’t embarrass him 3) poke holes in what remains of his privacy. So I’ll keep it simple.
Words cannot convey how proud I am of the man he is becoming. I’ve been going back and cleaning up old posts,* and reading what we went through back in the day has been hard. Like, really really hard. It’s an emotional time machine. And then I come back to the now and am gobsmacked by the maturity, the self-awareness, and the improved skills he has. It’s enough to bring me to tears.
That’s not to say it’s all bunnies and lollipops and rainbow-farting unicorns now. There are still things that shall not be named to overcome and improve, and so help me imma lose it during this home isolation if the complaints from both boys don’t stop. Yes, I am aware we are out of your favorite cheese. We’re also out of wine, shaddup. Procurement of consumables is a raging pain in the ass and I ain’t heading out hunting and gathering until I absolutely have to.
It has been a roller coaster of parenting for 19 years. I expected bumper cars, I got all of the wildest roller coasters of all time. At the same time. While juggling flaming hornet nests. With a wedgie.
And as hard as it was, as hard as I cried and as much as I suffered, I wouldn’t trade it for the man he has become.
Happy birthday, Andy. You are one helluva person and I am proud you are my child.
*Apologies if you’re getting random alerts about “new” updated posts that are over a decade old; I’m trying to figure out how to fix that.
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