A Milestone Event

10 years. He's been in my life for 10 years. I've been a mother for a decade. Happy Birthday to my absolutely wonderful and amazing son Samuel. When he arrived on the scene, I hadn't a clue in the world what I was doing: he has taught me everything I know about being a mother.

His laughter lights up a room. His questions fire up my imagination and my thoughtfulness. His love of music has rekindled my own. His love of books reminds me of myself at 10 years old. His legs and feet have a way of catching on the smallest item imaginable, and dumping him in a clunky heap on the floor. His sensitivity is a constant reminder to me that all children hear, see, and absorb what happens around them. His love for his baby sister is palpable. His disgust at his other sisters is almost as equally palpable. His tenacity rivals only that of his father's. Actually, he might have his dad beat on that front. His highs and lows bring me right along with him, for every elated discovery and every crushing disappointment. His gift to me is this adventure called family.

And the milestone? Not that he is ten. No, the milestone is this: As I sat at my pathetic excuse for a desk, working late into the night, he came stumbling down the stairs because he could hear me in the kitchen. Sleepy and newly 10, he climbed into my lap with a mumbled, "I know I'm getting too big for this..." I didn't mind. But what's this? A new experience! My son stinks! His armpits stink!!! HE HAS B. O.! Time for deodorant!

What a way to ring in a new decade, don't you think?

I gave him an ice cream sandwich at 1:00am to celebrate his birthday. I tried to take his picture, but he was so sleepy that his attempts at smiling looked much more like miserable grimmaces. Shortly after the ice cream, my great big little tiny boy hugged me, kissed me, and crawled back to bed.

Thank God for middle of the night visits from children. Really.