Can We Start Again, Please?

I started this blog in 2009. The boy who calls me Mommy was still in elementary school and still called me mommy. Now it is 2020, and he just shut his laptop on his Junior Year in high school. He is, for all intents and purposes, a Senior. He calls me Ma now. 

In two short weeks my baby will be 18. A full fledged adult. Big boy jail old. Register for the draft old. Slipping through my fingers old. 

In the past few years we have experienced life. We have weathered middle school bullying. We lived through two years of high school marching band. Marching band is an animal unto itself. It shows you how strong and resilient your child really is. You learn pride in the team, especially when you scan through a football field of feathered hats to find YOUR feathered hat. And you know that it’s really a Shako.  You love one cog in the wheel, but you also love all the other parts. You go to football games. By choice. 

This year we also started driving. For some strange reason, the bulk of the driving time has been with me. This taught me two things:  one, I could never, ever be a driving instructor by trade. I Just couldn’t take it. Two, you never see danger in the world like you do when your kid is driving. You wonder how many pool noodles are needed to cover all surfaces of your Jeep. And you pray. A lot. 

My baby also has a girlfriend. I like her. And not just because she lives hours away in a different state. She is creative, cute, and comes from a good family. I learned from her Mom that they have a plan to settle in Cincinnati so they will be equidistant from each family home. This doesn’t bother me so much right now because they have only been in each other’s physical presence twice now and we have years of school ahead.

Boy wants to be a pediatrician. He left Marching Band for the Career Tech Center so as to begin his education now. He loves it and excels at it. I sit in disbelief that I may one day be a Doctor’s Mom!  That sweet little boy in his car seat with a Matchbox car in each hand will be an adult that changes the world. 

I want my baby back. I promise I wouldn’t change that much. Maybe I’d make a better eater out of him. But mostly I would just love to live those days over again. To watch the discovery. To read the books. To change out the clothes that no longer fit. I just want a replay button. I want to start over.