He is everything a mother could hope for. Adventurous, smart, silly and goofy. Sometimes polite, sometimes grumpy. Funny and always forgiving. Sweet and growing, yet still my baby. I worry that he will grow up too fast and my job will be done. I miss him when I'm at work and he at school; I worry I'm not fully engaged and taking advantage of my time in his presence. I hope he likes his childhood; I hope he has fond memories.
He is lucky in that he gets several different celebrations. One with his grandparents on Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, another with his immediate family on his actual birth date. And another with his friends.
I'm lucky to be blessed with him as my son AND my contractor who made every effort to install the oven and cooktop before the party, along side the counter installers. Right down to the day before the party, while the contractor made one more attempt at getting the oven in the cabinet (gas line was in the way), I stuck around and started organizing the dining room; moving the kitchen items back into the kitchen. First thing Saturday morning, batter went in to the newly installed oven and out came a cake, first one baked at home in several years.
It was a hectic, crazy few weeks leading up to his birthday weekend, but the party was considered a success, I was challenged as a mother, wanting to do what ever I could to make my child happy. And now I can now work at a regular pace to put the rest of the kitchen together. And we can all enjoy the more organized space called home.