(This entry is part of the BlogHer August challenge to use the prompt “hot” for postings for the month of August.)

Isn’t he cute!

I have two children and their birthdays are 4 days apart. 

If I thought that my daughter turning 25 was bad, we now move to my son turning 27. As he pointed out to me the other day, he is almost 30. I don’t know why he would be pushing that along at this point but yea, in THREE YEARS, he will be 30.

We have been blessed. We have a pretty great life. There have been a few bumps along the road but for the most part, pretty great.

When my son was 13, he was diagnosed with a brain malformation. I wrote about it and his college graduation in May. 

My husband and I are now at the point where we get to watch his story unfold. While it is more fun than watching a toddler take off after a butterfly (and toward the street), it is hard to sit back and stop worrying or (much worse) giving opinions. It is now the time that we should speak when spoken to or only give advice when asked. (I love the acronym the Anne Lamott uses – WAIT. It stands for Why Am I Talking.)

My son will tell you that I am not very good at this.

But I continue to try. If only he knew the things that I don’t say. I could really get myself into trouble. Oh and don’t worry I have apparently said the wrong thing – from time to time.

(At my Mother’s 90^th birthday party, when we were doing a photo of our family group, I suggested that my son’s and daughter’s dates should be on the outside of the picture so that they could be air brushed out if the relationship didn’t last. I don’t know how it came out of my mouth and I was really kidding. It seems that my son’s girlfriend (at the time) didn’t think I was funny and shed some tears. ) (My daughter’s date, on the other hand, thought I was funny. He is still around.)

Okay, to be honest, my son has a litany of “bad Mom” stories that he will tell at the drop of a hat. Most might have something to do with my rather odd sense of humor that may assert itself sometimes. He has used them in speech classes as his introductory speech. He tells one particular story to everyone he meets. And believe me when I tell you, I don’t come off looking like the compassionate, loving Mother. BUT I AM!

I am very proud of my son. He has had some trials (and I am not talking about having me as his mother) and had come out like a champ.  He knew what he needed to do and went back and showed the perseverance to make it through. He now has a good job and is looking forward to learning more.  I love him and I think he is a great guy.

Happy Birthday, son!

We are pretending these are candles on his birthday cake. He is not here to have a birthday cake and I really don’t need to eat birthday cake. So here is a representation.

Thanks for reading!