My oldest son is now 20. Jeez where did that time go? Flick.
I stayed up late last night so I could be the first to offer him birthday wishes on Facebook. I know I'm sweet right! Ok and a bit mad. And a bit totally love my son.
He doesn't live with us as he's moved up to study at uni, share a crowded flat, play guitar and flip burgers in his spare time. So I didn't get to hang out with him, watch him blow out candles, unwrap gifts and other general birthday capers. But I couldn't stop thinking about him all day. I'd already Face-Booked him and rung him up first thing in the morning. I couldn't just keep contacting him all day. So I just sent him silent love puffs through the ether. (Yes, I've already confessed to being a tad mad.)
However my younger son, nearly 17, did have to sit and listen to my husband and I do the count down that went some thing like this...
" ...at this time 20 my years ago I was walking around the ward, stopping to rock every so often"
Followed by hourly recounts of his older brothers birthing story. ( Not a pretty one either, far from natural and wonderful. More very long, hard work and then a very rushed emergency caesarian.) The worse thing is we didn't stop there. Oh no, no, no, no, no...
...we then continued to reminisce about the younger sons birth story.
Anyway it dawned on me that this is how you celebrate birthdays when your young have flown the nest. An hour by hour vigil and countdown to the moment. The very special moment, that no matter what the circumstance, will always and forever remain very special moments.
Life-giving, Life-time moments...
And I wonder when the grandchildren come along (if and when they do - no pressure - and at this point certainly no hurry), will I be sharing the birth story of my sons to my sons as their sons (or daughters) burst in to the world.
Life goes on...
