Okay, so. I just watched TB get on the bus. Nothing out of the ordinary there except he had to catch it on its second pass this morning because he missed it the first time. This allowed me the opportunity to crack open the blinds and watch him. These are becoming rare.
The Mommy sobbing comes into play BEFORE my peeking on him. I'm leaving today. For four days. I didn't get my typical "Bye Mom. I love you. I'll miss you". I got a cursory "Bye. See ya Sunday." and he was out the door.
This is my BABY. This is TWH's only child. This is the child that was not supposed to be according to my doctors, who kept telling me to expect a miscarriage any day for FOUR MONTHS because my hormone levels were half what they were supposed to be. This is the only child that lives under my roof for reasons I won't/can't go into right now.
But he's not my Baby anymore. He's 13. He's a young man now. He spends more time in his room than he used to. He can do his own laundry. Apparently, he also needs less reassurance about things than he used to. He's growing up. He's growing away, like he's supposed to. Not in a negative way. Just in a maturity way.
I'm proud of the person he's becoming. He's sweet, loving, thoughtful, funny, smart, and insightful. TWH & I did that, I like to think. Some of it anyway.
Despite the Man he's becoming, he's still my Baby and when these moments hit me, that he's doing EXACTLY what kids are supposed to do, GROW UP, they hit me HARD.
I have to stop.
I have to take a breath.
I cry a few tears for the child that he no longer is.
I look forward to the man he is becoming.
And I smile.
Because he's going to be WONDERFUL.