Double Digit Boy Arrives

I am one of those people that growing older really doesn’t bother me, considering the alternative.  When my birthday rolls around, which won’t be for months, I get a little nostalgic a couple of days before the actual birthday and when the day comes it breezes by unbridled with fortitude and a bit of delirious delight (given I have my requisite dosage of chocolate cake).

On the other hand, my child’s birthday puts me in a tailspin.  I don’t know why this is; perhaps it is my ultra “maternalness” kicking into gear; the eternal gratefulness that I have received a gift from above – a miracle of such.  Snap out of it!  I have concluded that by accepting that if he in fact is gaining in years and growing in inches that my child, as an extension of me, I am to.  His birthday this year is especially rough for me as he frolics into a new dimension of life, a condition that is a significant deviation of where he will never be able to go back.

My child will become…”double digit” boy. Ten years old – a decade of his life has escaped. His lone, singular numerals will never be seen again.  He will enter the zone that will last 89 years, the borough of existence that holds promise, prosperity; sadness, heartbreak, success, failure, hope, pleasure, jubilation and contentment (just to name a few of the things).  As he holds onto the reigns of his life, he is poised to be whatever his dreams allow him.  The world is his proverbial oyster and he is in command.  I think that whoever made the decision to make the life change to teenager at 13 years old made a huge mistake – the real transformation is at 10 years old with modification and measurement at each and every 10-year interval…minor changes allowed in five-year allotments (or for those of us who can adapt well to change in one-year cycles).

He seems to be taking all of this hoop-la in stride, the promise of driving, his own personal cell phone, college and freedom don’t seem to be that far off anymore.  I do not want to rush progress but if I honestly look where the next ten years will take him it is awe-inspiring and a bit daunting.  I want to slow down this process and would rather take the “one-day-at-a-time and enjoy every minute” approach.  Making it a habit that we deliberate a bit more and spend that extra hour at the beach, stay up another 15 minutes discussing his day, take a closer look at that bug crawling on the wall, or contemplate the things that need to be.  When growing up quickly is the mode of operation and the darling of the advertisers, I think us moms and dad’s have the god-given right to keep our children kids as long as we can.

Happiest of birthdays my son, and may your double digits serve you well.  And no matter how old you get, I will always be older and hopefully a bit wiser.

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life. Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-