Hard To Believe

Today, my oldest Tristan, turns sixteen. It's so hard for me to believe that this is true. It seems like just yesterday when he would put a finger puppet on his little index finger and say, "Ladies and Jelloman!"

When he was born, he weighed a whole eight pounds, and was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen! I wasn't married to his father, so it was just me and him, against the world. We lived in a tiny apartment, on the third floor. I remember having to carry him in his car seat, the diaper bag, and anything else I had up those steps and wishing I lived on the first floor. It was a tough time with no help from anyone else, but I wouldn't change it for anything.

I think that time we had to ourselves helped to form the close relationship we have today. We talk about everything, and he never ceases to make me laugh. He is respectful of me, and the respect is mutual.

I'm very proud of the young man he is becoming-hardworking, polite, respectful, caring, and strong. The only downfall to his turning sixteen is the realization that time is going by so fast. He's growing up, and I find myself yearning for the days when he'd snuggle up in my lap and say, "I love you, Mommy."

Happy birthday, my dear son. I love you, and am prouder than any mother has ever been.