Twelve is 4, 383 days of doubt wrapped up in pride and swelling with a Love so boundless it hurts sometimes.
Twelve is Selfish and Frustrating and Maddening rolling in Sugar.
Twelve is Relieving and Helpful and Joyful.
Twelve is I got This buried deep beneath holy shit what I am going to do how am I ever going to get through this?
Twelve is carrying in my Target bags and reaching things too high for me.

Twelve is a child who is not yet a man but definitely a boy.
Who wants long hair and texts too much and erases them so I don't read them and wants a new pair of sneakers and hates those shorts that aren't long enough and likes a girl. No, he loves a girl. No, he doesn't care.
Twelve is I Don't Know.
Whatever.
Do what you want.
Stamp.
Sigh.
Twelve is that boy who sits on the swing, not to propel himself into the air and over the fence line, but to watch that girl laughing in our grass on a summer afternoon.
Who leaves dirty socks under his desk and his toothpaste in the sink and asks me to buy that shampoo that smells like cologne. And I do and I will till a hundred and one.
Twelve is a dozen times a million moments in time that I have glanced over at him and thought how lucky am I? That this boy is mine? Whose boy is this? Is he mine?
This boy who made me a Mother. This boy who showed me that I could, in fact, soothe someone to sleep and change diapers and remember doctor's appointments.
That I could cook dinner and wake up early for football games and know the right kind of cleats to get. That I could show another person the good in the world.
That I could comfort someone when things were bad.
This boy who taught me what it is like to want to be the best at something.
Or everything.
This boy who tells me stories and laughs at my animated replays of my days.
Who slams the car door too hard when he is mad.
My first born.
My son.
My Pride.
My Joy.
My Glue.
My Heart.
My Twelve.
It was not until you were born that I had finally arrived.
Twelve is a dozen Happy Birthday's and an egg carton full of wishes.
Happy Birthday.
Wish Big.

His birthday was actually Tuesday. But Whatever.
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Really awesome post, what a lucky pair you two are to have each other!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much!
DeleteAh, yes...a lucky pair. :-) I am very thankful for him ( all of my children, of course ) but there is something about the first, an unspoken connection of sorts. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that a parent and a firstborn are both navigating uncharted waters together.
So glad you came back! Thanks for reading!
What a great post! Happy birthday to him!
ReplyDeleteThanks Adrienne!
DeleteI love this birthday post, Kim! How incredibly startling it is to see your child grow up and remind you that time flies a little too fast?! First-borns are very special--not to say others are not--but they are our Guinea Pigs, our Caretakers, and our Giant Trees. Happy One Dozen Years to you as a Mama!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sandra!
DeleteI know that you know how I am slightly obsessed with the passing of Time. I write about it often in some way, especially as I get older and I seem to be super aware of blinking and shit it's three days later.
And...firstborns: there is something about them for sure, and I believe the bond is slightly "different" from subsequent children because with firstborns, both parent and child are sailing in uncharted territory.
And mapless.
xoxo
Happy birthday, and happy dozen mom years to you!
ReplyDeleteYes, firstborns are special. I always tell Kayla that she will always be special to me, that she "made me a mom". It makes us both smile.
Very delayed reply, super sorry! My Kayla was sick over the weekend, on top of the normal rush of football games and cheering to do and blah blah blah.
DeleteThank you for the well wishes! I am old as shit.
Yup. Those kids that "made us moms"...there is this connection that is hard to put into words.
x0x0
Gorgeous gorgeous love letter to your (oh gosh) 12 year old boy!!
ReplyDeleteYou have such a way with words, weaving all these letters into such a tapestry of art.
Thank you so much, Alison!
DeleteOh gosh! is right...I can hardly believe it. This whole "turning 12" thing on top of this whole "started middle school" thing on top of the whole "he is taller than me" thing is admittedly silently overwhelming. I say silently because what I say and do is nothing compared to what I feel inside...Time. It is so Intangible.
And...wow. Your kind words? What a nice way to start my day. Thank you, truly.
(Sorry for the delay in responding, my daughter was sick over the weekend, on top of everything else, so I got behind...)