But now I've just sort of petered out to a dull phfbbbbtttt.
(That's the closest I can come to spelling out the sound a balloon makes when it's being deflated.)
In other news...have I ever told y'all about my beautiful son?
I've never introduced you? Oh. Well. I'm a shoo-in for Best Mom Award then aren't I?
Here's a picture of him from about a minute ago...
Actually...that's not right. My son will be 18 years old in December. But it FEELS like it was a minute ago. *sniffle, softly crooning Precious Memories*
He's heading into his senior year of high school. (Oh my word I feel the ugly cry coming on...gimme a minute...)
Where was I?
He's my baby/man-boy. At times he flummoxes me with the thoughts that come out of his mouth. We can be sitting next to each other on the couch and laugh over...nothing. Not just little haha laughs. Knee slapping, mouth-open-with-no-sound-coming-out-tears-streaming-out-of-our-eyes type of laughing. (My husband usually just looks at us like the nerds we are, shakes his head and goes back to watching ESPN or whatever.)
He's the funniest kid and the most aggravating. He's passive-aggressive, so when I tell him to clean his room he says "Okay" and then conveniently forgets. He also plays football for his school. Go figure. (He would describe himself as being a lover not a fighter...but that when it comes to football all bets are off.)
He has a tremendous heart and..ahem... personal note to you females out there. The first one of you to break his heart, I will personally come to you and scratch your eyes out.
He might be passive-aggressive, but I'm just plain-old aggressive because I am his MAMA. And honey, you better know if you mess with him...you're definitely gonna be dealing with me.
That should keep him from having a serious relationship for about 40 years or so....
Back to that sweet heart of his....Butterbean is ga-ga over him and when he walks into the room, I no longer exist for her. He hugs everybody. I've had women in my church come and tell me how much it means to them that he hugs them, or smiles at them. He's just a good guy. Not perfect by any means (note room cleaning paragraph above) but good.
He's been at football camp this week and, well, I'm missing him a lot...and thinking about what next summer will be like when he leaves...and won't be coming back in a few days.
This son has given me so much. He actually tells me, the screw-up mom of the century, how great I am and how grateful he is to have me. And not just when he wants something either. I don't know how I will learn to live my life without having him there to greet me at the door each day with a hug and a "Hey mom, how was your day?" I mean, how does any woman learn to wean herself from that much love?
Oh yes, he's given me a lot. This man, this boy, this gift to me from a gracious God who knew I would need him so much.
And my fervent prayers, whispered in hope and in desperation each day, are that he has received from his father and I the firm footing and solid foundation that he will need to succeed. That he knows he is loved for the mere fact that he exists.
Do you know that son? Do you? I don't love you for what you do, or who you are...I love you because you live and breathe.
Oh son...this is my desire for you, that the love you have shown will be given back to you shaken down, pressed together, and running over.
I love you...beautiful boy.