My Buddy

My Little Man.

No longer a boy.

Not quite a man.

But, oh, how he longs to be.

He is my firstborn.

My leader.

My 'do it right or don't do it at all' child.

He is detailed.

He is focused.

He is task-oriented.

He tries to be my co-parent ;)

He even tries to parent me. (imagine that)

And in many ways, he is my opposite.

Sadly, this perfectionistic, there's-a-right-and-wrong-way-to-do-everything kid is being raised by a don't-sweat-the-small-stuff kind of mom.

Boy, do we butt heads.

We argue.

We disagree. (About nearly everything).

We lose our tempers.

And we love. Deeply.

At the end of nearly every day, as we tuck into bed, he becomes my little boy again.

And we talk.

About almost everything.

And he opens up.

And I listen.

And sometimes he will listen back.

Raising my (almost) direct opposite gives me an even deeper view into a reflection of me.

What makes me tick helps me focus more on what makes him tick.

Understanding myself helps me to better understand him.

Finding what challenges, motivates, and strengthens me helps me challenge, motivate, and strengthen him.

Because despite our differences, I never want him to grow up thinking that I disapproved of, disliked, or discounted him because of the ways we differ.

I want him to see that those differences make me love him more.

Being my Buddy's mother has changed my life, my Walk, my Journey with the Great Love more than any other single experience I have faced.

Through my son, I have come to know God, and His passionate, relentless, love for me

so much better.

Happy Birthday, my Son.