Dear Adam,

Today, you turn 17. Which is one of the top two worst ages to be.  17 because regardless of how independent you are, the law doesn’t agree, and 20 because that is what I call No Man’s Land.. you’re not a teenager, and yet you’re not legally an adult.. Also? You can’t buy alcohol on your own yet, so no matter how awesome the margaritas are that you make, you can’t do it without a little help.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure about writing this.  I have written a birthday post for you every year I’ve known you.  Your birthday has been in the back of my mind for the past two weeks, and I’ve struggled with Do I write it? Do I skip it? I was never really sure.  I thought about not writing it, I wasn’t sure you’d see it, clearly couldn’t know if you read it, and convinced it wouldn’t make a difference.  But I was afraid that if I didn’t it would be that last thing needed to start the zombie apocalypse, and I didn’t want to be responsible for the end of the world as we know it. So I wrote it, in part to save the world, and in part because what if, what if it did make a difference.

So I sit here today, on your 17th birthday, full of all kinds of conflicting thoughts.  So many things I could write here, regardless of if you read it or not.  I could wax poetically about how you’re on the verge of coming of age but really who the hell talks like that anymore?  Besides, have we ever had a serious moment in the 6 years I’ve known you?  Let’s see…

There was the time Grandpa was in the hospital and I met you at the house so we could go to the hospital and get Ashley.  To this day I still don’t understand why the truck wouldn’t start with the Thunderbird key.  And yet it didn’t.  We agreed your dad didn’t need to know, but apparently you crossed your fingers when you made that promise because you couldn’t wait to tell him once we got the right key and got on the road.  Thanks for ratting me out Buddy.

I still don’t get why your dad never understood the importance of squeegee-ing out the out building before we could even begin to start getting the fishing poles ready.  I mean clearly, don’t you have to have a clean work environment before you start work?  Sure… we were hosing down most of the floor, sure the squeegee was a hand-held one, he sure as hell didn’t appreciate our hard work or how clean the floor was.  That’s not our fault.

How many road trips have we taken to pick up or drop off the girls that I promised you a Rooster Booster?  Dad was never happy with us for that either.  Who could forget the road trip we saw this?

How many times did you wave at vehicles passing us? And then, when we stopped for gas…. there was one of the cars at the same gas station.

There have been hours spent playing xbox, when we played Indiana Jones you spent the entire game breaking things, and collecting coins while I saved the world.  None of that Hero Worship crap for you… you wanted the money.  How many times did you almost kill me with your guitar because you were rocking out too hard to Rockband?  And please tell me you have learned to make margaritas without splashing them in your eyes, and wasting perfectly good tequila.

Adam you’re 17 today.  I won’t go into what happened, beyond saying I am sorry.  I reacted, I didn’t think, and I was wrong.  I have, and will continue to respect your wishes, just like I have and will continue to love you as my own.  I sit behind the scenes, hearing of your achievements and I’m proud.  I heard of your wreck, and I cringed, and worried.  But today, today I celebrate you.  Happy birthday Scooter, I love you.

The Coolest 16 Year Old Guy I know

See that guy right there?  That would Scooter, Brian’s son.  I took that picture the day I met him.  He’d just finished his last race of the day.  In August.  It was H-O-T hot.

Scooter didn’t like me much when we first met.  But really, who could blame him.  I was a new person in Dad’s life, someone taking Dad’s attention away.

It would be months before Scooter and I became friends.  Brian’s dad was in the hospital and I came to stay with the kids over spring break so Brian and his mom could be with his Dad.  And even though Princess could demand every second of my attention, I made it a point to spend time with just Scooter.  Playing catch with him in the basement. I sealed our friendship by catching a baseball with my face.

Today Scooter turns 16.  Even though his dad and I are no longer together, Scooter still holds a special place in my heart.  He is beyond a doubt the coolest 16 year old I know.  Some of my best memories are of the two of us hanging out cutting up.

Like the time Brian sent us to the outbuilding to get the fishing poles ready for our fishing trip the next day and we ended up hosing down the floor and squeegee-ing the floor clean.  Fishing poles? Oh yeah, we were getting to those.

Scooter helped me move more times than either of us like to count.  It was hot, hard work, but with Scooter, it was fun.  And it got done.

So, Scooter, even though I am no longer the best future step-mom in the entire world, I am still thinking about you today Bud, and I’m wishing you eleventy-billion birthday wishes.

You totally rock my world.

 

Your birthday is a special time to celebrate the gift of 'you' to the world.

 

Happy 14th Birthday Taterbug

14 years ago you changed my our lives. Not just my life, but your Dad’s and even your brother’s lives.

14 years ago you took your own sweet time getting here.  You kept me up all night, doing things at your own pace.  Which is never in a hurry.  Unless it’s shopping?  That? You’re a pro. (Get a job, help pay for that shit you think you have to have!)

You look at the world through hopeful eyes.  You believe in the good in everyone.  Except your younger sister. Unless of course you want to borrow some of her clothes.

My time with you is growing short.  Already you are making noise about learning to drive.  Two short years from now.  Don’t rush the next 24 months.  Once we reach 16? It’s just a blink of an eye and you’re gone.  I’m not done with you  yet.

You have made me proud beyond words.  You excel at everything you put your mind to.  Your grades? Honor Roll.  The teachers and staff at school? Sing your praises.  Your phone? Constantly in use talking to your friends.  I have seen a gymnasium full of classmates stop mid conversation to run over and say HI to you.

You have gone above and beyond with our neighbors. Your patience and kindness has opened new doors for our neighbor by helping him learn to read.

Your sense of humor? Kicks my ass.  You make me laugh every day.  You get it.  You are not afraid to laugh and joke, and you’re more than happy to me the clown just to get a laugh.

You feel deeply.  If someone hurts, you hurt with them.  If they are angry, you’ll pick up your sword and fight beside them.  If someone is being a douchenozzle, you’re right there calling them a douchenozzle. Usually not to their face… but still.

In a strange twist of fate, you have an incredible amount of faith and belief in me. Even when I have little for myself.  And living up to your expectations for me as your mother?  Is what keeps me trying and striving and reaching.

Don’t be in a hurry to grow up, Tate, because I’m not in any hurry to let you go.  We’ll have plenty of time to be friends when you’re older.  Enjoy your teen years now.  Be a kid, laugh, play, dance, sing, live and love.

Because, you are loved.

Happy Birthday Taterbug.

Happy Birthday Newt!

I have sat here staring at a blank screen all weekend waiting for my muse to show up and grace me with a fantabulous topic to blog about, but the bitch never showed up.  So, my blog sat ignored all weekend long.  Which isn’t such a bad thing, after all, the internet is closed on weekends. Right?

So then we come to Monday.  Today. Columbus Day in the States and Thanksgiving for our neighbors to the North.  Either way, it’s a holiday and that bitch muse of mine? Still MIA.

That’s ok.  I’ll just take this time and space to say that 11 years ago today I got the best surprise of my life.  11 years ago today, my youngest, Newt was born.  She was a surprise, as in I was done having kids but some higher power had other plans for my uterus for 9 months.

She has always marched to the beat of her own damn drum, bending rules, doing things her way on her schedule and making me proud.  She has guts and gumption and a fearlessness I never possessed at her age or even at twice her age.  She knows what she wants and what she doesn’t.  She is sure of herself and I am jealous.

She is brilliant and witty, hilarious, and helpful, she’s beautiful in her own way and while she doesn’t appreciate it yet, those of us who know and love her do and trust that she will too in time.  She shares my early mornings with me, often sitting in the bathroom with me while I get ready for work.  Early mornings have always been our time, and even now, 11 years later, they still are.

Happy Birthday Newt.  You have brought much laughter, love, sunshine, smiles and fun into the past 11 years, I can only imagine what wild ride the next 11 years will be.

Happy Birthday to me, lumps, bumps and all

Yes, today is my birthday.  I’m legal today.  Twice.  I’ve been able to legally drink now for exactly half my life.  You’d think I’d be really good at it.  Some days I’m better than others.  Maybe I need more practice.

Anyhoo… Brian’s mom took me and the girls shopping.  They needed new swim suits.  When you’re 7, 11, and 13 the most traumatic thing to happen while shopping for a swim suit is they don’t have the colors you want in your size, so you pick another color.   At those ages bright colors are great.  Bold patterns are awesome, and the more skin you can show the better the swim suit.

When you get to be my age swim suit shopping  just hammers home the truth that I am no longer as young or as skinny as I used to be.  And all the swim suits that have enough material to cover up all my lumps and bumps have patterns on them as big as Texas.  Find a print I like?  Great I have rolls and bulges and lumps and bumps sticking out over the top and from the bottom and everywhere fat can ooze out of the suit.    While a wet suit would cover all that I want covered, it’s pretty inappropriate for a back yard pool.

So, today I learned that I have to accept I am no longer as young and as skinny as I want to be, and probably never will be again.  There is something to be said when my 13 year old daughter can now wear the mini skirts I was wearing just two short years ago.  Time to finally let go of the death grip I’ve had on my youth and come to terms with the fact that well….. I’m 40 (plus)