I was a teen mom.
Okay, I’m lying. I wasn’t.
I was actually more like a recently-graduated-from-college-and-working-as-a-teacher mom.
But, whatever, the older #1 gets, the younger I have to have been when I had him to keep the I’m still 29 lie going.
So yeah, just for my own happiness, I guess we’re saying I was, um, 19 when I had him.
Because today is his birthday.
His TENTH birthday!
I’m crying while I’m writing this post.
Clearly I’m an emotional mosh pit (and typing this while also watching Something Borrowed) who can’t face the fact that I’m getting old oldish mature.
And so is my baby.
I can hardly stand by and watch it happen right in front of my face.
I really just want to reach out and make it stop.
Because this is who I see when I look at him…
This is who I could hold in my arms and cuddle and make do my bidding hug in public and stuff.
My forever empty womb is aching people.
Because this is who he really is now…
The extremely handsome Dude who sorta-kinda says goodbye to me while getting quickly out of the car at school and scurrying away so my probably-yelled-a-little-too-loudly I love you’s can hardly reach his ears before he slips into the school and away from me.
This person never wanted to slip away from me…
This one does…
I hate it.
And I love it.
Because I love him. So, so much.
Okay, enough sappy Dumb Mom, the kid is turning 10 and I am still refusing to be a day over 29.
And you need to link up your Wordful Wednesday posts and then head over to the Seven Clown Circus and see what Angie is feeling wordful about too!