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Yesterday was Jordyn’s birthday.  He turned 7.  His birthday made me think about my age more than my own ,probably because my husband said, “Him turning 7 so fast just means we are getting older just as fast.”  What every woman wants to hear.  How old we are getting.  I didn’t dwell on it long because when I turned thirty I pondered my age thoroughly.  Turning thirty is a milestone of sorts.  You can no longer blame the stupidity of your twenties yet you have enough life experiences to actually have a snippet of wisdom to offer others younger than you.  You see, I couldn’t dwell on turning thirty two because I want to save all my strength for when I turn forty.  I can only imagine the thoughts and emotions that will pop up.

Seeing Jordyn turn seven is a joy.  I can remember every minute of my labor and delivery all the way up until the morphine.  It’s a little fuzzy after that for a couple days - morphine and vicodin will do that to you.  I remember my hormones raging and how I didn’t immediately click into this blissful motherhood role I was embarking on.  Then, two weeks after I had him home I was rocking him back to sleep at about 3 a.m. when suddenly I was more awake than I had ever been before in my life.  I looked at him and thought to myself, “Look what you did.  You have this amazing little person that you created and now you have to make sure he grows up to be a man that you would be proud of.  I’m a mother.  I’m someone’s mother.  Oh damn, I’m someone’s mother.  Oh.  My.  God.  I’m someone’s mother.”  I sobbed by myself while holding him in that chair as if I had JUST given birth to him.  To look at him now, seven years later, with a newly lost tooth, interests in reading, sports and video games amazes me.  He’s becoming his own person and exploring things he enjoys.  Is he a perfect little angel?  No.  There a lots of times I want to ring his neck.  Yesterday wasn’t one of them.