Today I am the mom of a 9-year old. I am filled with such great emotion, both happy and sad. I wonder how time has just flown by these past nine years. I look at my wonderful little boy and wonder how he got to be so grown up so fast. I see videos from when he was just learning to talk “Hi, mama” and remember that sweet high pitched voice. I remember his first steps and feeling so dang proud of him. I remember his first smile and how my heart melted right away. I remember him always needing to have Lightning McQueen (the one with the red tires), Mater (the “dirty” brown one, not the shiny blue one), or a monster truck (El Toro Loco) with him at all times, even when he slept. I remember him being so active all of the time and looking at my friend’s daughters and wondering why he wouldn’t just sit and color like the calm girls did.
There is something truly special about a mother/son bond and I thank God for giving me exactly what I was supposed to have. A preciously perfect little boy.
I remember feeling like I was pregnant but nothing showing up on the pregnancy test. I told my friend, Shandy, and she totally thought I was joking. She didn’t take me seriously at all. Lots of our weekends, at that time, were filled with going to Galveston, going to concerts (seeing Madonna pregnant was not as fun), and having drinks. But the feeling inside me just grew and pretty soon I just knew, without the test showing me a positive.
When the test did show up positive (literally right after I peed on it, no waiting needed), I started bawling. Not necessarily because I was excited, but because I was so scared. Terrified actually. After time passing and the newness of being pregnant wearing off, I got excited. I loved feeling him move around and kick me. I loved talking to him. Buying clothes. Decorating the nursery. All the fun baby things.
Then it was time for the big reveal: the 20-week ultrasound. Of course I was convinced with every fiber of my being that I was having a girl. I was a girly girl, didn’t like playing with trucks, and didn’t like to get dirty. Of course there was a little girl that I was growing inside. It just had to be. I could just imagine ALL THE PINK, the bows, the cute shoes, makeup, nail polish, & shopping. I. Just. Knew.
Until that ultrasound technician said, with such confidence, “Do you want to know what you’re having?’ Of course! “It’s a boy! There’s the penis”. Um, excuse me? What? Boy? Penis? WHAAAAAAAT?!
So I did what I do best and I cried. Right there in the ultrasound room with the cold jelly still on my belly. I’m guessing this doesn’t usually happen when there’s a healthy baby showing up on the monitor, so she excused herself to give us time. Oh, what she must have thought about me I can only imagine. Ha!
Trucks. Playing in the dirt. Shorts, shirt, & flip flops. Cars. Boy things.
Not my thing at all.
But I’m going to reiterate what I said above: God totally knew what He was doing in giving me my son. Without a shadow of a doubt He knew that I would be the perfect boy mom. And I am. I love it. I couldn’t imagine him being a girl. He is the perfect little boy for me and looking back I can’t help but laugh at how silly I was.
Monster trucks are awesome. Monster truck shows are awesome. Cars (the movie & regular cars) rock my world, especially the movie. Toy Story is another movie that will forever hold a special spot in my heart. I remember watching the third one with my son when he was, maybe, 2-years old and bawling my eyes out when Andy goes away to college. Whew, still not ready for that one! Getting messy is super fun! I didn’t know what I was missing out on all those “girly” times when I couldn’t even begin to imagine. It’s the best because I’m getting to see life through my son’s eyes. I’m getting to experience things I didn’t even know I would like. Seeing the world through sweet, innocent eyes goes unmatched.
But goodness, I wish I could bottle up everything and slow down time. It’s going by too quickly and my heart can’t take it. I am so thrilled to watch him grow up and experience new things, but at the same time, I wish he was still that little baby that needed me more. I wish we had the time and the days together still when there wasn’t school, homework, and commitments. I wish he still wanted to hold my hand just as much as he used to. I wish he didn’t tell me that it’s not necessarily cool for me to tell him “I love you” in his 2nd grade classroom when his friends are around. “They all heard & it’s kind of embarrassing”, he said. Ouch. That one hurt.
I do love that we still have a “thing” that we say to each other. He starts off with “I love you” and I say “I love you more” and then he ends it with “I love you most”. It’s sweet and melts my heart when it happens. I remember he used to always tell me “You’re my #63” when I would tell him that he’s my “number 1”. He loved saying that and I loved hearing because in his eyes I knew that it meant #1. On his 4th birthday, he told me, “Don’t worry, mama, even though I’m growing up I will always be your baby”. (Excuse me while I bawl my eyes out for a moment.)
I’m pretty sure that when he turns 13 I will look back at him being 8-years old and wish that he was still this little. But for now I will just count my blessings and enjoy every minute, growing up and all, because he is the most extraordinary thing that has ever happened to me.
Happy Birthday, my beautiful boy. You have made my world the best place to live in and I love watching you grow up, although it really seems like it’s happening way too fast. I had no idea when you were born that you would instantly become the love of my life. I had no clue how much love I could feel for you and how bittersweet it would be for you to suddenly be a big 9-year old. You are so very precious to me and I love you with all of my heart, to infinity and beyond.