First born's birthday

Yesterday was a major milestone in our family and I did not cry once. Talk about some immense personal growth.

Michael turned 18 yesterday. Even as I typed 18, I thought, “Can that really be correct? Eighteen years old?” I mean, I know the dates April 22, 1994 – April 22, 2012 do, indeed indicate an 18 year time span. And he’s a high school senior, which means it’s reasonable to assume he’s 18. And he’s taller than both his parents… that one doesn’t count because he’s been taller than us for two years.  

I can’t deny it; the boy’s 18.

Each day, I’m becoming more and more like those old people who used to drive me crazy – you know, those people who said, “Well, I can hardly believe how old you’re getting. My, my, time certainly does fly!” Yep. I’m one of those people now.

Where did the last 18 years go?

When he was a baby and cried and cried and cried, I was sure he would cry forever. When he started school, I was sure we’d be doing school together forever. When he got his license, I was confident he’d drive into my driveway forever.  But something clicked for me when Rebecca put 18 candles on 18 cupcakes yesterday. All the time I thought I had is quickly slipping away.

But I didn’t cry. Because the little guy I brought home from the hospital 18 years ago has turned into a more wonderful human being than I dared pray for. It’s really hard to be sad when faced with someone so beautiful.

As I was thinking those lovely, proud mommy thoughts, he informed me that it is now legal for him to buy cigarettes and lottery tickets.

Oh, yes. He's 18.

Happy birthday, Michael!

Still excited for Hot Wheels