We need a wheelchair! The baby's coming! And a pen...the taxes are due tomorrow!



Eight years ago, a baby boy was born. He was almost 2 weeks late and had a big ol' hole in his leg from some monitor used during labor. After 40 minutes of good, hard pushing, he came into this world screaming and crying and perfect and at that moment my life was flipped inside out.

My firstborn son, my tiny little angel, is 8. He woke up yesterday morning while his brother and I sang him happy birthday and his sister clawed his face. He smiled a big awkward toothy 8-year-old mouthed grin at us before he even opened his eyes. He had cookies and petit-fours in class today because he doesn't eat cake (too much sugar, he says). He chose for his birthday dinner to be at Morton's, just like he has every year, because he's cool like that. Other kids go to Chuck E Cheese, but not my B. He likes wearing a tie and dress shoes. Because he rocks. A lot.

I cannot tell you how amazing this boy is on every level. His is quiet and timid, but self-confident and head-strong. His is humility personified. He wears his emotions on his sleeve and hold nothing back. He is honest and caring and has more love in his pinky than most people I know will ever feel in their whole lives. His is amazingly smart, and every day he strives to learn. He wants to be a scientist and a teacher when he grows up (and professionally skateboard in his spare time, of course!), and I believe he will be.

He rubbed my feet every week I was pregnant with his sister. When T tried to kill an ant a few years ago, B stopped him and explained that the ant's mother would be sad if it died. He asks his dad how work was every day, and actually listens to the response. He goes to the theater with his grandmother. He and I are taking a knitting class this summer. He plays his flute on the front porch at night so our neighbors can enjoy a little music before bed. He can tell you what good every bit of food on your plate will do your body at dinner time.

See? Is he great or what? I love him so much it literally hurts sometimes. No other event has changed me as much as his birth. Nothing has been more of a challenge, or given me greater reward, than being his mother. He is a blessing beyond all compare. I cannot screw this up. I must be the very best I can be for this little man. He deserves nothing less.

Happy birthday B, my little angel. Thank you. For all of it. Your mom loves you.