Sixteen years ago today, at 3:08am, after allowing a complete stranger to use a scalpel on me...The Boy was born! I really must recommend the emergency C-section method of childbirth. The OB staff performed like a pit crew at the Indy 500. Talk about speed and efficiency!
My only son. My redhead. My biggest challenge.
Oh, how I love this kid, even though he causes me all sorts of worry and consternation (are those two words synonymous? I really must move the thesaurus to my desk).
No cake and flaming candles today - The Boy will get his gift in the van, since we are motoring off to The Keystone State.
Aren't you envious? An anxious kid who is a lousy passenger, filled with birthday hype, on an eleven hour drive? Doesn't it just scream fun?
He gets his anxious passenger gene from his mother.
I've already told him the rules of engagement regarding the funeral activities we'll be taking part in, and he repeated them to me in that voice that means "you don't have to tell me again, Mother, I get it already."
As for my anxiety? I've promised myself that I will not scream every time The Mister tailgates. I will close my eyes and go to my happy place. I'll push my imaginary brake and hold onto the "Oh Shit" handle with every ounce of strength that I possess.
Funeral on Friday; luncheon afterwards. Taking comfort in comfort food and the company of family and friends. I might coerce The Mister to drive around our little town, so he can get a feel for where I hung out for the first thirty-two years of my life.
Not much family left there - who knows, this could be the last time we ever visit.
Then it's back in the van bright and early Saturday morning for the trip home.
The Boy's family birthday celebration is scheduled for later this month.
We're one year closer to an empty nest, just need to get The Boy headed in the right direction toward living independently. He needs to start focusing on career goals.
Maybe he'll be an accountant:
Or a capo in the redheaded Mafia:
Perhaps a food critic is more up his alley:
Since his dream job involves The Muppets, perhaps he'll be an impersonator:
I think we could have something here...
Happy 16th birthday, Boy! Keep up this annual aging thing, and soon I'll have to change your name from The Boy to The Young Man!
I love you more than anything!