(theo celebrating his third birthday with a chocolate cupcake)

my son turned seventeen a few months ago. while i am no longer planning big themed parties with magicians or puppet shows or the olympics or pajamas i do still decorate the house, make his favorite breakfast (poofy pancakes) and plan SOMETHING. i love doing this and get super excited at the approach of these celebrations, even though he only begrudgingly poses in a birthday hat for photos now. but this year i was bummed in the same way i get when one of my own “big birthdays” arrives (40, 50, 60 - sixty hasn’t come yet, PRAISE JESUS! but i am already dreading it.) it hit me that next year will be his last birthday at home before he goes off to university and i just felt gutted.

(theo’s seventeenth birthday dinner with a sweet cow ice cream cake - THE BEST! - at barchetta)

(celebrating theo’s first birthday)

(a puppet show for number three)

(a pj party for year five)

(we put him on a wheaties box for year six)

(a magic show when theo turned seven)

i want to squish him back down to a three or four year old again and start over. i am NOT READY for him to go out into the world and have adventures without me. he DOES have mini excursions with his friends, of course, that i am not a part of but then he comes home and i (usually) get to hear about them. and our vacations are together (and in my control.) we only have one more spring break and one thanksgiving and one christmas before he leaves home. and spring break this year was him schlepping around with his father (i had to stay home nursing hank after his BACK SURGERY) to see all of those colleges that will (hopefully) take him away from me… NOT relaxing on a beach or visiting museums in a cool city.

i find myself watching old videos of him with his sweet baby voice or pouring over his childhood photos. i DO like him now - we have interesting conversations about politics or current events or music - we teased apart how we feel about roald dahl’s books being re-edited so that the most offensive language is taken out on the way back from the airport recently. but i can’t stand how aware i am that the clock is ticking. when he was small it felt like i would have his little hand in mine forever and now he is pretty particular about when he will hold my (now much smaller than his) hand… definitely not anywhere near boulder high or where there are any other people really…

(one of dahl’s twisted, compelling but definitely not PC tales)

i am not sure WHAT to do with these feelings. i saw a dear family friend recently who shared with me that love is “letting go” and the sooner you embrace this, the better off you will be. all i want to do is HOLD ON with everything i’ve got.

(my sweetie baby boy at the beach back in the days when i always had a hand on him)