My first born boy turns 17 today.
But he decided he preferred to have his birthday in January.
Things I’ll never share.
Seriously, I cannot tell you how ready I was to hold him in my arms instead of carry him in my belly.
Late pregnancy does not agree with me.
I had my makeup on, the family in place and an epidural plugged into my back before the pain really even set in.
Even the delivery nurses were oohing and aahing over his shock of white hair and bright blue eyes.
Who managed to charm his way out of everything with that same shock of white hair and those same bright blue eyes.
But still manages to persuade me into or out of just about anything.
That just goes with the territory of being a mom, I suppose.
Happy Birthday, you handsome boy.