Tuesday, October 23, 2018

The One Who Made Me a Mother

October 26th is Devon's 18th birthday.  He took 25 hours to enter this world and would have taken longer if the doctor hadn't said "Time for a c-section."  Devon made me a mother and Tony a father, and although we were both so young, we gave ourselves and each other grace while we learned how to be parents.

Devon is a remarkable young man.  I'm sure there are things he has done that would make my hair even curlier, but I was once a teenager (and a wild one at that.)  However, most of the things he has done have been confessed to me.  He comes to me and feels comfortable telling me things, and that aspect of our relationship means more to me than any wild teenage thing he has ever done.  He has a healthy respect for women, communication, and patience.  His relationship with Trent is playful and loving.  He and Layla may fight frequently, but that is normal, and I have no doubt he would be in her corner in a second if she needed him. 

He has his father's work ethic and sense of responsibility.  He also has his father's concern for my emotions.  He does chores without being asked most of the time.  He is true to his word.  He is a good friend.

It hit me today that after the 26th, he could move out if he wanted to, and the tears came.  I don't know how my first child will be 18 in three days.  It is cliche to ask where the time has gone, but seriously, where has the time gone?

He must register for selective service.  I will make sure he registers to vote.

We all know we love our kids, but there seems to be a switch for me at this time.  I'm going from loving my kid to loving my adult son.  He will leave the nest relatively soon.  His room will become a catch-all room, and I will not hear his potty mouth while he plays video games.  I will not hear his alarm going off for 20 minutes in the morning.  I won't have to buy a gallon of milk every other day, and I won't get to say "You are having milk with that?"  I won't have his friends around my table feeling comfortable talking to me about their own lives or pretending to like my jokes.   He may still live here another two years, but I'm acutely aware of how fast time is passing.

This is not the hardest thing I've faced as a mother, but it is surely emotional.  I contribute to the man he is becoming, and he contributes to the woman and mother I strive to be.