I know you hate that B&W picture from that collage. But I love it. And I’m the one making what you call a “white-girl collage,” so I get to pick my favorite photos.
You are now older than I was on the day I gave birth to you. I have officially been a Mom longer than I’ve not been a Mom. I am no longer the Mother of a teenager. I’m the mother of a 20-year old. An adult who sends out important emails to groups he leads and has a job and goes to school and cleans toilets (hopefully) and worries about the utility bill and house-breaking his new puppy.
I’m so proud of you that my heart feels like it’s going to explode, and yet I’m also just sad that you really don’t need me anymore.
I know I give you a lot of guilt for not calling me enough, but know that I come from a long line of Catholics and guilt trips are how we show love.
You’re an amazing brother, still willing to drag your brother and your sister around your adult world, because they don’t want to leave your side even for a second when we visit. Seeing how you interact with them always reminds me how excited you were to become a big brother. I know they drive you crazy sometimes, but they will always be your biggest fans.
I guess some day I’ll have to quit writing cheesy blog entries on your birthday…there are 10 others before this one lingering in my archives…providing a digital footprint of my lameness over the course of your life so far. They all basically say the same thing: STOP GROWING UP ALREADY.
Anyway…you are awesome. I hope I tell you that enough. I hope I don’t tell you so much that you tune it out. If I had a dollar for every time someone gave me a compliment about you I’d have like…several hundred dollars to spend on donuts.
Whether it’s kind words about you working at Fresh Market, compliments about your gorgeous hair, or enjoyment over your humor on Twitter or Instagram. (See what I did there? Being a good blog Mom and trying to get your more followers on your social media accounts.) People are always telling me how awesome you are…like I need the reminder.
I love you with all of my heart and I miss you terribly every day. I hope you have a great day and that you’ll maybe call me to tell me something funny that happened. You would probably stop calling me if you saw how excited I got whenever I see it’s you on the other side of the ring. I dork out and try to play it cool, “Hey. What’s up.” But really I’m all, “ELIAH IS CALLING. NO ONE BOTHER ME UNTIL I AM OFF THE PHONE OR EVERYONE GETS GROUNDED.”
Happiest of Birthdays to you, my 20-year old son. Thanks for making me feel proud (and old) every single day.