Thirteen...I'm not going to lie. Getting prepared to celebrate your 13th birthday puts that little tingle in my throat just the same way it did on your first birthday, when you took your first steps and when I walked you into your classroom on your first day of kindergarten. It's a reminder that you have grown from that squishy-faced toddler that used to spontaneously hug my leg into a guy that shops in the men's section for clothes.
A very wise older friend once told me "If you are raising him to not need you around, but he still wants you around, you are doing a great job." How true are those words? I remember looking at that tiny baby in my arms that depended on me for everything and couldn't fathom the day when you didn't need me. But thirteen sure feels close. My heart is a wee bit achy with the realization that we only have five more years until you'll be preparing to leave for college. Five more years to really help shape the person you'll be when you're out on your own making your own choices.
I really had no clue what I was doing when we brought you home from the hospital, and I feel like I've gone back to square one as we enter the hormonal teenage years. Since we are big cooks around here, I'll put it in cooking terms. Being the first, you were the test kitchen. We tried things out, and if they didn't work, we changed them up with your brother and sister. I've fallen short on a lot of things over the years, but with that came some great lessons.
I've learned that letting you fail is a good thing. Of course I want to drive to school when I realize you left your homework, but I won't because you need to learn to take responsibility. Of course I want to give the jerk that's saying rude things to you in the hallway a piece of my mind, but I won't because I want to give you the tools you need to stick up for yourself. Of course I want to ask the coach to give you more playing time, but I won't because you've got to learn to work hard for what you want.
Most of all, I've learned that time goes by like the speed of light and the time I have left with you is precious and I want to make the most of it. I promise to be more present and really look for those quiet moments to chat...other things can wait. I've learned that even though you are about to overtake me in height, you still need to be hugged and told you're loved every.single.day. Because even if you act too grown up for it, you are never too old to be shown that you are loved and supported.
So my son, even in the blur of the hormonal tornado twisting and turning all around you, always remember that you are loved, you are believed in and that you gave us the greatest gift of our lives when you made us a mom and dad.