He was ours when he was born. He cried loud yet he was consoled easily and his deep blue eyes almost immediately showed expression. I held him and saw perfection. He was big, bold, and bright and I promised him then as I watched him sleep that I may not always know what I was doing but I would always do my best.
He was ours when the smart, inquisitive, sparkly, and happy toddler emerged before our eyes. His soft brown hair and chubby little toes I just couldn't get enough of. I would rock him every night and sing "You are My Sunshine" and joyfully anticipate it when he always pulled his pacifier out of his mouth to sing the last verse with me.
He was ours when he developed into a handsome young man with a beautiful smile that did well in school and sports. It was a joy to see him proud of himself and knowing he would always be bursting through the door excited to tell us about his day.
He was ours when he learned how to play the saxophone and hit his first home run and noticeably hid his phone out of sight when he was talking about girls.
He was also ours when he started testing the boundaries, caring less about his grades, and his stormy personality gave way to emotional outbursts we had never seen before.
The conversations now revolve around telling us how terrible we are with the same conclusion every time that he hates us and it is painfully hard not to notice that his beautiful smile no longer lookes our way.
The sparkly boy with the deep blue eyes that sang "You are My Sunshine" with me and couldn't wait to tell me about his day was now locked behind a door and forcefully telling us to go away.
Today he is a teenager. Today I am the mother of a teenager. Today I have a label to attach to the behavior leading up to this day.
I quietly tell myself he is still ours as we battle the teen years together, and, as he gets harder to love, I am trying to remind myself to love harder. I can protect my heart, be patient, take deep breaths and still continue to guide him the best I can but I miss him as I fight the urge to touch his soft brown hair and look for that beautiful smile to find me again.
Happy birthday and it's okay if you hate us. Part of me knows you are supposed to and in a weird way it tells me we are doing something right. Just know that I definitely don't always know what I am doing, especially now, but I still look in on you when you are sleeping and promise you I will always do my best.
