Oh, Good Grief

My son turned 21 last week. I don't know if there's much more that will wake you up quicker than realizing that your child, that same child who needed you so desperately while still a babe in arms, the child who relied on you for EVERYTHING at some time in their life is an adult. A full-fledged, card toting, go down to the local pub to have a pitcher with friends, adult.

Yes, I know they're technically adults at 18, but it's not quite the same. Something changes when you can take your son out for pizza AND a beer and not have child services called on you. Not that that was ever an issue at our house, but you know what I mean. If just feels different.

How this happened so quickly is a mystery. One minute I'm drowning in diapers, bottles, runny noses, baby powder, brown dogs and yukky pillows. The next minute I'm telling him I'd better not get a call from jail when I find out he's celebrating his liberation at a brewery. How in the world did the sweet face on that boy become the grown up face of a man so fast? Life is a weird and amazing thing sometimes.