My ‘baby boy’ is turning 30. Oh my!

I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. It doesn’t seem possible that my 6 pound, 9 0z preemie is  now a strapping six footer who’s turning (shhh) 30. The big 3-0. How did this happen on my watch?

I used to be a participant in these events but am suddenly a spectator, experiencing the circle of life in triple step time. Be warned that there’s nothing profound about this blog post, but damned if these big O occasions don’t throw you for a loop.

My baby boy, once so small, so orange (he had jaundice) has become a lovely, accomplished, loving adult. He’s starting on his own triple step with the first step being getting engaged to his long-time (lovely) girlfriend. Marriage is coming up next and the patter of little feet won’t be too far off (I hope).

I was once the childhood bride, the barefoot hippie with the flower on my cheek. I was the young mom with two little boys juggling on top of the work/life balance beam. And after all this time, I must admit I’m pretty damn lucky…still with my barefoot beau and watching our boys become men.

It’s fantastically joyful to watch our children (even adult children) grow into their next phases. I may not be sitting & cheering in the bleachers at the little league game any more…but I’m looking forward to a front row seat at the wedding.

So…. in the immortal words of 1957 songwriters Margo Sylvia & Gilbert Lopez “Happy, Happy Birthday Baby” to my first born boy. May you live a gloriously long, happy, healthy and love-filled life. I’ll always be cheering you on from the sidelines. That’s what moms do. Even nobluehair moms.

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