Our bond is strong and even sweet. He still hugs me. But only in private. I love when he wraps his long arms around me, even if it’s for a millisecond. I get more high fives and fist pumps than hugs but that’s okay. I’ll take what I can get.
It’s still dark outside.
I walk in right on time.
Well, maybe a minute early.
So that I have time to watch her sleep.
She looks just like the toddler she used to be.
Except now her bed is bigger and so is she.
Today is my son’s birthday.
His 17th one.
And for the first time ever, I’m not with him. I can't hug him more than he wants me to. I can't tell him, again, the story of his birth. And I can't bake him a birthday cake from scratch. (Oh, right, I wouldn't do that anyway.)
It started with the feet. A few years ago, my daughter started sharing my shoes. Flip flops and sandals but not my wedges. Too young for that. She got her ears pierced and she started wearing some of my earrings. And the diamond necklace I got from her father after she was born. (Only for...
My daughter and I were alone on Saturday. For the whole day. And there wasn’t any nagging about homework to be done or about her room being cleaned up. So she suggested that we bake. Now, I’m not a baker. (Well, lately I’ve been baking bread. That’s not the kind of baking I’m talking about.)...
My baby turns 13 today. Right now, she’s at her father’s house. She spent the night there. And I’m sitting here waiting for her to wake up and send me a text message so I can pick her up and we can get the day’s festivities started. The festivities include five of her friends coming...