This son of mine is funny, strong-minded, sensitive, and kind. He can also be messy, selfish, a bit lazy, and quite stubborn; a fairly normal teenager. We’ve had a good time with him here, haven’t we, laughing at his contributions to bone&silver?
But it’s all going to change on the weekend.
For this was me, a lifetime ago, standing on the edge of changes I had zero idea about, despite the weekly pregnancy group meetings, and various well-thumbed books.
I went past my due date by more than two weeks, which stressed out both my midwives, but then I had my baby at home on the back verandah as planned, with no interventions or pain relief. As long as I was up and walking, labour wasn’t too painful… just long.
Long as in “Started-On-Wednesday-Morning-Came-Out-Friday-Morning-Long”.
Anyway, I made it. We made it. Born at 5am, on a clear frosty Winter’s morning, after his Mum had walked round and round the garden wrapped in a quilt for hours.
And now this weekend, he’s passing from 17 to 18, which is a massive milestone! No doubt I’ll write more about it, but I just wanted to acknowledge that this is the last possible Teenage Tuesday with ’17’ in it.
So I’m going to document his response today, as I made the innocent mistake of sharing some new information:
Me: I just found out a friend of mine makes her son a cooked breakfast every morning.
Him *without raising his eyes from his muesli bowl or missing a beat*: Yes, you really need to step it up a level Mum.
In gratitude for my wonderful baby boy, who will always be my baby, G xO