Saturday, December 1, 2012

Saturday night's alright for... writing.

I've never loved anyone or anything as much as I love my son.

He challenges me, he refreshes me, he makes me laugh, he makes me cry.

I know he's growing up. His smell has changed, he smells like a little boy and not like a baby at all anymore. Soon enough he'll reek of adolescence and teenagerness and know it allness, and then he'll be an adult and hopefully, he'll just smell... clean.

There are all these genius moments, real times when I know that this is IT. This is why I am alive, it was all leading up to being this incredible kid's mom. There are all these times that I know that this Could Be It... as in, this could be the last time he does something a baby would do, the last time he says, "Please grib me that," instead of "give", the last time he asks to "have a conversation" to get out of having to go to sleep alone in his big boy bed, any number of lasts.

It's hard to balance the joy and relief of watching my child grow bigger and stronger and smarter and more independent, and the deep inexplicable sadness of knowing he's less and less mine, less and less my baby, as the time passes.

It happens all at once, so quickly and so slowly, childhood disappears into adulthood by nicks and cuts.

I couldn't tell you the moment I became an adult. I think I'm still in process. Some days I look at myself in the mirror and I see the little kid I've always been, sometimes, I'm the forever teen, and sometimes, I'm the mom, the woman, the adult.

All I can tell you is that we are here to be someone to somebody. We are here to have certain kinds of relationships with others. We are here to love each other. We are here to learn, to grow, to become, to endure, to fight, to make peace, and repair. Each moment is precious.

I try to suck the marrow from the moments as they pass me by, to enjoy the small window of childhood, I am privileged to lead my child through, and to listen as he tells me "one more thing", and then turn off the lights and tuck him in, and listen to another "one more thing" (or five), before he sleeps. I try to document his clevernesses, but I will always miss so many more than I have time to write down or even that I have the capacity to remember, so sometimes, I just sit there and marvel with him.

Hopefully, these will be the moments we both remember: When we took the time to just be in each other's company and enjoy each other.