Clichés stink!
But they're true.
Time flies.
The days are long, but the years are short.
Being a mother is the world's hardest job.
They're all clichés, but they're all true. And Tucker's 17th birthday is a big, shining reminder that time has FLOWN by and my first born son, the one who propelled me into motherhood, now drives a car, has a job, and receives college mail daily.
His 17th birthday reminds me of those long days, when Daddy was coaching football, and two-a-days and film-watching and away games meant some days were longer than others. But then the 6'3" kid walks into the kitchen and those long days fade into really short years.
Remembering the last 17 years solidifies the idea that motherhood truly is the hardest job in the world. Decisions, decisions, decisions. Does he need to go to the doctor? Can he eat that food yet? Why is he crying? Why is he struggling with reading? Will he make the team? Why is he hanging around with that kid? Is he old enough to go away for the weekend with the church? Hard questions for first time parents.
At least I thought those were the hard things. Now, driving to school in the mornings. Driving home late at night after ball games and work. Taking the ACT and SAT. Dating. All BIG things that add up to late nights and gray hair.
And pride. And joy. And mature conversations. And laughs. And daily reminders of the little boy, the long days, the happiest years, and the best that is yet to come.
I like J.D. Salinger's take on motherhood, definitely not a cliché, and I'm sure most mothers would agree that we are all slightly insane.
It is my badge, a tattoo, a proud mark to celebrate the boy who made me a mom. The boy who made me, me.
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