Fly, my Boy

Jump

This is how I see him when he rides.  Sharp detail, clear focus, with the rest of the world fading away.

Its a dangerous sport, and a mother’s eyes get sharp when the babies are in danger, but MAN!  I’m so proud of him at the same time.

Bubble Wrap

Bubble wrap

So maybe he’ll land softly if he crashes.

There be teens here

As of 9:27 last night (Pacific time) I am the mother of a teenager.

Kel reminded me ever so nicely that in just over a year we’ll have two.

Wasn’t it nice of him to not use the smirk to rub it in. Not.

The Hell?

How did we get old enough for this? And who are these tall people calling themselves my kids?

We did have a good time yesterday to help ease the pain of it all. Grilled shrimp with mango salsa at Chili’s, then a good movie for the birthday girl. We laughed and talked all through dinner, and had a fun drive home afterwards too. I suppose if I have to be the mom of a teenager, I got lucky enough to get one like her. The boy’s not so bad either.

It could be worse. Since my brother’s son turned 13 the day before Salem did, my own mother is now the grandmother of Teens. Plural. See? Things aren’t so bad for me now.

Sorry, Mom.