9 Years

Happy Birthday to my baby boy... who is not so much a baby anymore. 9 years old. Holy shit, batman. I will not bore you by being one of those parents who says my kid is the smartest, cutest, most brilliant child in the world- who farts sunshine that smells like roses. I mean, he is to me.. but he is a really good kid, with a tender heart, a good sense of humor, and a quick wit, and it gets more fun everyday to see what he will say, do and teach me about life and myself every moment I get to spend with him.

For example... Today I learned that having a nine year old child, when 10 years ago I never thought I would have or want children, makes me feel really, really fucking old. I also learned that 90% of the time the answer to many questions I ask him is apparently, "I don't know." And, when I am irate and ask him what happened, or why he was screwing up, (i.e. Where did this mess come from?), the first word in his sentence is always his sister's name. (i.e.- "Rachel did...", or "Rachel said...")

I am fretting and anticipating the next few years. The years when he starts growing hair, and his voice cracks, and he has to start washing his own sheets- because having no siblings, know nothing about the whole wet dream thing. Those wonderful times when he gets a crush and starts chatting on the phone and internet... when he gets defensive and shy about girls he likes... His first rejection from the opposite sex, and how I can comfort him... The laughs we can have when he starts to "get" the innuendos on the almost family TV shows. How about the things he can confide in me that we have to keep a secret from his dad- the secrets he keeps from me. I know it is coming, so I am enjoying what I have while I have it... and can't wait to see what is around the corner.

Despite the trials and tribulations of daily parenting, I can say that having him makes my life better for so many reasons. Love you to infinity and beyond, Boy-o! Happy Birthday!

*end mushiness*