Counting Candles

Seventeen years. If I reach back in my memory the first thought of motherhood is McDonald’s chicken nuggets with sweet and sour sauce and Clearly Canadian bubbly water. The actual arrival
of my first child is a classic tale showcasing my family’s crazy devotion. My Mom and both of my younger sisters were present to welcome Benjamin into the world. Aaron, my husband, was busy trying not to pass out to notice the rest of the crowd in the room. He was so incredibly out of sorts he proceeded to go out into the waiting room to tell my Grandpa that, “The baby came out, and then went back in.” Knowing my husband’s natural ability to storytell, the unruffled farmer in my Grandpa didn’t pay much mind to my husband’s babbling. Apparently I entertained many in the waiting room as my focused “ooooo’s” and “ummmm’s” drifted down the hallway, prompting other waiting relatives to inquire as to what religion we practiced.

Today my son turns seventeen. Wasn’t it just yesterday that he was Thomas the Tank Engine train obsessed? I’m pretty sure I still have Power Ranger costumes in my Halloween box that were his. The plastic Little Tykes red cars with the yellow roofs have been replaced with a ’96 Monte Carlo, complete with new subwoofers and an amplifier that takes up the entire trunk of the car. What happened to the boy who signed his name with all capital letters and carefully lined up character bandaids that covered his entire shin? He must be too busy helping his mother find her minivan in the grocery store parking lot. Mom, that is not our blue van. Mom, your keys are in your back pocket. This is the child who has moved eight times, whose first experience with school was at the age of four in England. He is my first attempt at this Mom thing and he’s made it a complete joy. There is nothing sweeter, or more hair-pulling, than to have a child whose personality is similar to yours. It makes the jokes funnier and the moments that matter more emotional. I am immeasurably blessed to have Ben as my oldest child. He’s simply a gift. I cannot put into words what he means to me. Happy, happy birthday Ben. You’ve made my life all the richer.