I've had a mental and emotional struggle for months, no, you could say years, of you turning thirteen. For some reason I just can't quite wrap my head around being the mother of a teenager and you being old enough to actually be a teenager. But as most things have a way of coming to fruition, the day has arrived where a teenager resides in my home and heart.
Thirteen is an age that arrives with so many expectations and hope to's and want to's. I know it also marks future disappointments and frustrations. Broken hearts and confusion. But I've been working at this whole motherhood thing for thirteen years now, and when I look at you I think maybe, just maybe, I've done something well in this life.
I will not go on and on in this space since you are old enough to read here, and your friends might read this as well. But I have a few things to say that I don't mind anyone reading.
You are determined and brave, one of the most courageous and well-intentioned persons I have had the privilege of knowing. You stand up for what is true. You are respectful and well loved. You are way too good looking than any boy your age should be. You are discerning and observant. You are funny and playful. You also like to remind me often that the next car we get will be the car you learn to drive in.
You make me proud to call my occupation "mom". You have blessed this world for thirteen years. However you stole our hearts in a single moment, late on a Sunday night at 11:45pm, where we met the boy we never knew we so desperately needed.