Yesterday, my husband and I completed a three-day celebration of our birth 35 years ago thanks to our parents who sequentially treated us to very nice dinners. At each dinner, sitting between us comfortably placed in his grandmother-made highchair cover sat our dear little son, who is feeding himself and pushing out tooth number two as I write. I witnessed his developing personality as he smiled at waitresses, talked to those who passed by, and waved at friendly people in the parking lot. Thank God he didn’t inherit my tendency to be introverted. It has been a life struggle of mine and I’m happy to see him without it.
As I begin plans for his first birthday party, which occurs in just over three weeks, I find myself reflective. Of course, as occurs to every mother, this year has gone by with G-force speed. I’ve done my best to document what I could and savor what I feel are the few moments I get with him as a working mother. I compare myself to my own arbitrary standards, hoping in the end that I measure up to the mother I want to be.
At the same time, as my shared birthday with my husband passes (Yep, born on the same day), I also reflect on my time with him. Friends in middle school…high school sweethearts…friends again…time lost…and God-inspired reconnection. We have packed a decade worth of living into the three short years that we’ve been married. We had a lot of catching up to do and sometimes I can forget about the time lost and feel that we’ve never been apart. I can’t imagine living this life without him and his service as a father and mate inspires me.
I may have started my dream life at 31 years old, but hey…at least I started it.
