Considering my level of excitement, you may think that tomorrow is MY birthday. Alas, it isn’t. It’s the 16th personal anniversary of my first-born – The Kid.
What’s been funny is my encouragement to do something extraordinary for ‘Swagger 16’ (yeah, it’s kinda corny, but I’m a mother. Sue me.) And guess what? All grandiose appeals of fanciness have been thwarted. Instead, The Kid has three requests: going to the movies at midnight Friday/Saturday to see a scary movie that will no doubt have me watching hours of cartoons to avoid weird dreams, the super deluxe, fancy version of Rosetta Stone in either Tagalog, Turkish or Portuguese (please don’t ask) and almond cake.
Now you’re probably wondering why I don’t stop bugging him, right? The mother in me who birthed him almost 16 years ago needs to celebrate. I mean it’s 16! The year of driving, dating and part-time jobs. It’s what I call a milestone birthday. On my milestone scale, this will be his last one as a child. A little part of me cried.
But then I realized this birthday, technically speaking, meant I only had two more left until my duty as MEO/MFO (Mothering Executive Officer/Mothering Financial Officer) ended. At 18, I would become Mother Consultant, available for large loans and adult advice. I would no longer have to deal with the CSEA or schools and I wouldn’t be responsible for any ‘wrong place, wrong time’ incidents. And I remembered the day when I couldn’t WAIT for him to be grown:
While I research the best complement to almond and haggle for a reduced-priced, possibly used Rosetta Stone, I reminisce about TK and look forward to the low-key, snowless (stab at that Cleveland prediction for the weekend), cake-filled 16th celebration.
Happy birthday, TK.