It happened yesterday…

My boy went to college. And the tears came.

Just yesterday, or so it seemed, I took him to kindergarten and I wept openly as I left. Sobbing loudly down the halls of the school. I am sure people were staring, but I didn’t know. And I didn’t care.

There have been more tears over the years. Tears of frustration—on his part and mine. Tears of hurt and pain as we battled through the really hard days. Tears of wondering what are we going to do and how would this all work out. Tears of pride as I have watched him work so hard and grow and learn and become an incredible young man. Tears of relief and gladness as I watched him master one challenge after another. Tears of gratitude to God. Tears so bittersweet as I watched him graduate from high school barely three months ago.

And now, here we are.

College.

As I put him out of the car and watched him walk away, the flood of emotions came. Prayers out loud in the car to Jesus…Be with him Lord, because I can’t. Help him. Protect him. Grow him.

And the tears.

Tears. Oh, the tears of indescribable joy and pride and love and excitement for his future. And gratitude. So much gratitude in my heart to see where he is today, knowing where he has been—where we all have been as a family. My heart is bursting.

No, he hasn’t gone away to school. He is still here with us to support him as he studies at the local community college. There are still many unknowns. But that is okay. He is ready. He is so on his way.

He is my hero.

Ooey Gooey Confetti Love

Dear Jacob,

Eighteen years ago, on this day, the most amazing thing happened and life, as I knew it, changed forever—all because of you.

We had waited for you. Prayed for you. Hoped for you. Dreamed about you.

It was Valentine’s Day.

The day that is so much about love. It was a perfect day to be born, really. Because having a child, becoming a mother, is like having a big old truckload of love poured into your heart until it is so full and so big for your body, that it explodes into a bazillion confetti hearts that flutter down all over you and cover you with love on the outside too. You just become one big ball of ooey gooey love covered in confetti hearts, all melty and messy.

Yep, it was just like that.

And there you were, my precious boy—my heart walking around outside my body, and I was never the same.

We have watched you all these years, grow and laugh, struggle and cry, persevere and mature. You are becoming a man. And it breaks my heart and fills me with so much joy and pride.

You are an incredible gift from God. Through all your struggles, you have taught me so much. You have taught me compassion, gratitude, patience, and flexibility.

Because of you, I’ve learned that things don’t always work out the way you planned; sometimes things work out better. God’s plans and ways are so much bigger and better than mine, anyway.

You have taught me that when one way of doing something doesn’t work, you try something else. And you keep trying until you find “the thing” that does. I’ve learned how to fight for you and be your advocate.

I’ve learned that “normal” is overrated and that doing things in a way that may look completely nuts to other people is okay. I’ve also learned not to care what others think and to listen and smile and nod when people offer “helpful” advice. I’ve also learned to accept advice that is genuinely helpful.

I’ve learned that it is okay to let you do things in your own way (not all the time, of course! *wink*), because we don’t always look at things the same way. And hey, you’re a pretty smart guy, so you know what you are talking about. But I’ve also learned to push you to try things that might be scary or difficult (for all of us!). And I’ve had to push myself as well. We’ve grown together—you and Daddy and me.

You are kind, compassionate, brilliant, sensitive, persevering and hilarious. You are so strong. You have worked so hard to get to where you are, to overcome some challenging obstacles. You amaze me. I have no doubt that you will make your mark on this world and that the world will be all the better for it. I know I am.

It’s gone by so fast. Eighteen years. How did we get here? My heart still explodes with that same confetti love each time I look at you, at that face, those eyes—those brilliant hazel eyes. Just like the first time I saw you on Valentine’s Day 1995.

I could not be more proud to know you and call you my son. You are more precious to me than you could ever begin to know.

Happy Birthday, Jacob.

I love you. With a big old truckload of bursting-heart-ooey-gooey-confetti-love that is messy and beautiful and wonderful.

XOXOXO

Mom

Relativity

I do realize that cold is relative, but right now in my sleepy South Carolina town, it is 32 degrees this morning. In frigid Midwest terms, I’d say that would be, oh, probably about 15 degrees with a –5 windchill. We don’t know how to act down here when it gets like this. At least it isn’t snowing, but then, if it were, we’d at least have something to show for the cold temps.

To ward off the chill, I am sitting here with my piping hot mug of tea and our little space heater blowing some nice warm air in my direction. I am also keeping my fingers warm by tapping on these here keys! Ha.

I am thinking my walk will have to wait until the temp comes up a little.

Meanwhile, I plan for my classes at the homeschool co-op tomorrow and wait for Jacob to make an appearance this morning. He is not a morning person.

The apple did not fall far, people.

I am always amused when I see things in my kids that I know are true about me as well. I distinctly remember my mom yelling (and yelling) at me to get up in the mornings. Oh, I was just terrible about getting up. (Still hate it.) Now that I am the mom yelling at my kid to get out of bed, I realize that my mom’s head must have been about to pop off every morning of the school year. Sorry, Mom. Really.

Finding something to motivate my son to rise and shine is not easily done, my friends. But when he does get up and it is time to get with the school work, he gets with it. So, as long as he is getting his work done, it is fine with me if he sleeps in a bit.

Hey—I’d sleep in if I could.

I also love when I see things in my kids that I know are not true about me. Though I have always loved to sing, I have always been very shy about singing in public. I have done it, but only a couple of times and probably not since I was about 17. And I was always horrified—like on the verge of puking. So, I am now relegated to singing in the car, the kitchen and the shower, and that’s just fine with me, thank you. I’m on a Les Mis kick at the moment.

Now, I see Emma, who has joined a show choir this year, really coming out of her shell. And I had the great privilege of seeing and hearing her perform for the first time publically this past weekend. It was pure joy. She was amazing. She is out there doing something I never felt comfortable doing. Proud Mama moment for sure.

Raising these two kids, who are both so like and so unlike my husband and me, is the most incredible gift. Watching them grow and become the young adults they are becoming is priceless.

I am so grateful to God every day.

“The hardest part of raising a child is teaching them to ride bicycles.  A shaky child on a bicycle for the first time needs both support and freedom.  The realization that this is what the child will always need can hit hard.”  ~Sloan Wilson