Clayton is twenty one today. And I have decided to not post an embarrassing photo from his childhood.
I wonder where the time has gone but wonder more at how he survived having me as a mom. From the carrots he first spewed out of his mouth to the days of cowboy boots and hats to the Legos I sucked up in my vacuum cleaner to all the bugs we examined to the books we read out loud to struggling through spelling lists to struggling through friendships to discovering the power of football to discovering the power of girls to seeing a great goal achieved to hanging on tightly to that same goal until it becomes complete. I have been there. I never had a career or a job or weekly tennis matches or any social-climbing activities, so I could be there. His life became my life.
I'm sorry he had to be "the experiment", as the first-born is doomed to be. I'm sorry for all the dumb-mom moments along the way. I realize now I had a lot of growing up to do as well. I would do many things differently now...but there's a lot about which I have zero regrets.
I have been in his life through every milepost, and it kills me to not be with him to celebrate his 21st birthday.
Meanwhile...back at the Kinleystead...reminders that the clock still ticks.
Thanks, senior girls who write on obnoxious sophomore guys' cars wrongly parked in the senior's parking lot, for this reminder:
"Two more years".
I know how fast these two years will pass.