Can I begin by saying that the last 10 years have flown by? And the idea that the next 10 will likely feel even faster, meaning that before I know it, I will have a child who is TWENTY years old, is a little terrifying. What happened to my darling firstborn, who had a cute round head and an easy smile? He has become a tall, lanky bookworm — bright, charming, and occasionally even helpful. His only birthday request? The Guinness Book of World Records. (He also asks me nearly daily when he can start his own blog — perhaps because even posts about him on my blog tend to really be about me.)
I have been a mother for 10 years. My mom likes the term “career mother,” as opposed to “stay-at-home mom,” or “full-time mom.” And true, this has become my career, and my only vocation. I’ve been doing this far longer than any other pursuit in my life. Reaching this decade milestone gives me pause. I ponder the successes and failures of the past and present. I still wonder what I’m really supposed to be doing all day. I think about the significance of what I do, and worry that it will never be enough.
I do know that this work is important, if undervalued. There are days I wish I could give it up, but were someone to offer me a way out, of course I would never take it. My charge to provide for nearly every need of four small humans is at times overwhelming, but also fills me with great joy and h0pe. I thrill at who they are becoming (on good days) and know that imperfect as I am, this is what I am meant to do.
Happy birthday, Sam. Dad and I are so proud of the grown-up boy you are becoming. We love you.