Ouch, this hurts.

I quit.
I can't type this.
I am shutting down the blog.
My hands are shaking.
My throat is tight.
Something is squeezing my heart.
My face feels hot and the tears are spilling.
Eight.
8.
EIGHT.
Seven years ago, I took that picture. My first baby was about to turn One. He was chubby, days away from walking, just had tubes put in his ears and I could NOT believe he was nearly One.
How naive.
I can remember the exact moment, I fell in love with The Kid. Of course, I loved being pregnant with him or even before I was pregnant. Everything went smoothly, including labor and delivery.
Did not love the enormous weight gain, you live, you learn.
My water broke very late, the night before Thanksgiving. Four hours later, there he was. My holiday baby. Later that day, everyone ran home to rest or change. I was tucked in bed, alone, with my new baby.
My boy.
I could not stop soaking him in. I had that feeling. I could squeeze him so hard, I could smush our souls together. At that moment, my life changed. I told him he was mine (I would reluctantly share with a few people) but he was mine, to keep. My heart took him in, promised to hold him tightly there, just for me.

Funny thing about babies. Even if you own them, they insist on growing. The Kid was so loving, outgoing and sweet from the start. He trusted people, he loved and he wanted to be loved. He took more and more people into our bubble.

He was smart. I knew that. Later, I realized, he is brilliant. He always loved to learn. He was a sponge and soaked in knowledge. We spent hours outside learning every bug, flower and tree. Grammy, Pop pop and I took endless walks around the yards. He became obsessed with planes, trains and automobiles.

His memory was and is astonishing. He can recall tiny details, directions and faces. He enveloped himself in small town life, and has perfected the 'friendly, neighbor wave'. Thankfully, because his mother, has not.

And still he kept growing. He had the nerve to turn Five. I thought maybe we could pause at Five. His first day of Kindergarten, I cried to the point of sobbing. I called Grammy and told her, "He did it, he went to school. Soon he'll be in College". That may seem like an exaggeration, and yet...

he turned six, and then seven. He just kept having birthdays! With each number, he got taller, stronger, more defiant, more intelligent. And slowly....he is not quite mine, anymore. With two little sisters, my heart had to make some room. I've had to answer "Just a minute", one too many times. He has to get his snack, while I change a diaper or tame a Tink. He got a few less hugs, less snuggles on the couch, less walks around the yard.

All the while. He kept on growing. And this weekend, he turns eight. EIGHT. My boy. It happened so fast. I still want him to be mine, and yet he is not. I am no longer his lunch date, or afternoon nap buddy. I do not see him from 8:00am-3:00pm. When I pick him up, he whispers with his friend in the back seat. When we arrive home, he rushes out to play. He still has so many bleepin questions, with the ability to find the answer himself. I can feel, that we are rounding a corner, onto a road, he will ride without me.
I want to hold onto the back of the bike, for a little longer.

I wish you a happy birthday, my son. I am so proud. You are more intelligent, more handsome, than I imagined. You are funny, loving and when no one is looking...an excellent big brother.
Please, continue to read, watch that temper and always love to learn. Keep your desire to travel, your ability to recall the names of those you have just met and your sense of wonder.
Please, keep loving your parents and grandparents. It is a crime that my most loving child, is getting the least of my attention. Continue to learn your faith, to make friends and always love your vegetables.
I will try my best, to hug you even more. To tell Tink to wait, while I tend to you and to plan more Mom/Son dates in the future.
I am painfully aware, I may not have many more ahead of me.
If you ask, I will still rub your ear pillows (his 3 year old word for ear lobes).
To me, you will always be mine.
Even after I.... stop being yours.