Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Fluttering on the Edge of My Nest


September baby.
Labor Day baby.
Nurses thought it was ironic,
me, not so much.

Quiet at birth.
Quiet still.
Introspective,
Funny,
Caring,
Silly,
Helpful,
Loving,
More handsome than he knows.

Testosterone is not my friend,
Nor estrogen, his.
He and I,
oil and water some moments, some days.
Other moments, other days
best of buddies.
I guess that makes him my son,
and me his mother.

Loves
shoes,
his grandparents,
 brother and sister,
 parents,
 extended family,
friends,
fast cars,
soccer,
our dogs,
the cat (a little),
stylish clothes,
car trips with siblings,
thai food,
spicy food (the hotter the better).

Not necessarily in that order.

Hates
liars,
injustice,
inequality,
mexican food,
homework,
mowing the grass,
feeling out of control (don't we all),
aquariums and museums
being bored.

Not necessarily in that order.

There is so much more to him than my words can convey.
My love for him is impossible to quantify.
He is my last child.
My youngest.
My baby.

My baby turned fifteen.
Car keys are just around the corner.
There he sits,
Fluttering on the edge of my nest.




3 comments:

  1. Awww! I love this post! Happy Birthday to your son!

    Linda
    http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com
    http://deltacountyhistoricalsociety.wordpress.com

    ReplyDelete
  2. That's a super cool post and a great story about the boy...in just a few words!

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  3. Happy Birthday Quinn! I can't believe he's so close to driving! It must be a bittersweet feeling to see your children grow into such amazing adults. You've helped that you know :)

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