My oldest turned 18 and graduated high school. That’s been picking away at me – only for the most selfish emotional reasons. He’s fine. He’s more than fine. He’s great. I couldn’t ask for better. His future plans are solid and I’m beyond proud of him. I just can’t help but want to take him trick-or-treating more, hold him more, watch him go down the slide….all those things that are done and have been done for some time, but it’s so final now.
I didn’t expect to mourn my child’s successful completion of childhood.
It’s complicated. I don’t know if you feel this with every child, just your first or just when you have them so young that perhaps you didn’t appreciate what it was you had.
There’s no one like him in the world. He’s amazing. He’s brilliant. He’s funny. He thinks for himself….I love that. His opinions are his own. He listens, processes and decides things for himself. What could be more successful than that?
He will always be my baby. My 9 1/2 lbs, 2 feet long, 2 weeks past due ginormous baby.
I didn’t scan of his baby photos for this….this is sort of a word vomit more for me to get out than anything planned….it would be just more photos of him being adorable with bugs, cats, photo-bombing…..he’s a photo-bombing master.
Seriously. Master. Photo. Bomber. You can’t even compete.
And he’s all grown up. He leaves this fall. I can’t tuck him in to bed or read to him or tell him to eat his dinner…I can’t go back and do it more or less than I did….you think 18 years is soooo far away, that you have so much time.