Love, more

Once again I return to this completely ignored space to acknowledge my twin boys' 16th birthday.  This is a long post but they each deserve their own letter. 

August 22, 2016

Dear son,

You are 16 years old.  Somehow I couldn't even envision who you would be in 2016 when you were born 10 weeks early and barely 3 lbs. and 12 oz.  You were this fragile thing wearing a mask to protect your eyes as you baked under bright lights to help your body rid itself of jaundice.  Yet your liver eventually figured out how to do its job and after 8 weeks you got to come home to our first floor apartment in a two family house.

It is wild to see you now - all 6'1" of you and still growing.  You can't start braces because the orthodontist says it'll be stealing our money since your jaw will be the last to finish.  So while it is a relief we have a principled orthodontist, it is unnerving that you might be going to college with braces.

You've embraced rugby with gusto, are diligent at your job in the grocery store and chomping at the bit to take your learner's permit test so you can start driving around town (with one of your beloved parents, of course).  You are also figuring yourself out, which is at times marvelous and other times maddening.  

But luckily for me, it is mostly marvelous.

Happy birthday darling son.

I love you,
Mom



August 22, 2016

Dear son,

You've stopped acting.  I'm trying really, really, r-e-a-l-l-y hard not to completely lose my sh*t over this.  It isn't because either of us harbored fantasies that you were going to make it big as a song-and-dance man on Broadway but because it was something you enjoyed and were good at.  This spring you were so good as the villainous and heartless Bill Sykes in a local production of Oliver! that little kids ran out of the theater out of fear and at a few shows the audience applauded your demise.  But you won't darken the door of your school's theater and are not interested in participating in local productions.


Darn it.  You are growing up and wanting to do your own thing.

You have found in rugby a sport that "clicks" for you.  You are getting more responsibilities at your grocery store job that require codes and keys and the authority to make overrides.  Pretty heady stuff for a teen.  You had a heart-to-heart talk with your godmother this past weekend about how to manage people that are creating roadblocks and not let those individuals make you stumble. 

So I'm going to shut up and let you be you. 

Happy birthday.

I love you,
Mom