Time is running short.

I’m running out of time. Somewhere along the way, I must have blinked. Or maybe I turned my head and lost focus on him for a minute. But when I looked back, he was half-grown!

Seems like it went like this:

1.       He was born

2.       He got a few teeth and started walking.

3.       He rode a bike, played basketball and learned how to hunt and fish.

4.       He’s taller than I am now.

WAIT! What???

When did that happen? What was I doing while this was going on? Why didn’t I notice?

I don’t know how it is for other moms, but for me, I remember everything about my kids as babies. Then I have a few really great memories of their early school years. And now it’s all just a blur! There are activities every weekend, meetings every week, and friends and homework and meals and arguments and laughter. I know it’s all there, I just can’t pay attention to it all. And then out of nowhere, I look up (yes, I have to LOOK UP) at my son, and he’s HUGE! He looks like a full grown young man.

He has responsibilities. He has a cell phone.  People outside this house actually count on him, and depend on him. He works part-time, and has a savings account. And he’s so serious.

Don’t get me wrong, he knows how to laugh and have fun. He’s a typical boy, in that he laughs at fart-noises and burps, enjoys stupid comedy shows that make me shake my head, and loves hunting and fishing. And video games.  And computers.  And music.   And his momma.  And his Nanny.

 

He has a quick temper, but is also quick to apologize when he’s wrong. He’s strong. He’s handsome. (Of course I’m going to say he’s handsome, he’s my son! But take a look for yourself.)

 I keep thinking, “I’m running out of time!” Time for what? What do I need time for? Time to be the only woman he needs in his life. Time to make sure he knows the kind of man he should be, and the kind of woman he should look for. Time to teach him about parenting, and working a full time job, and driving a car. But most of all, time to form memories. Because I can already see it in his face, in his eyes. He, like every other teenaged boy out there, already thinks he knows it all, can do it all, if we’d just give him the chance.

But I’m not ready yet.