In the past few months, my oldest son, who is fifteen, has: started shaving, received his learner’s driving permit, and started his first part-time job. I’m having some kind of strange feeling about all of this, but I’m not sure what it is?!

He is growing up, which, of course, means growing away. Normal. Healthy. Natural. But, oh, so hard on the momma. Where did my baby go?

Actually, he’s still there. The sweet, caring boy who used to cuddle on my knee now gives me giant bear hugs that almost break my back. I used to rock him to sleep at night, and sing to him, and kiss his face. Now, I am lulled to sleep by the music of a boy who stays up later than me.

I dropped him off at work a 7:00 this morning. I felt little … bittersweet? … as I watched him walk into the building carrying his lunch pail. My baby.

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