Today is Adoption Day for me and my mom. She brought me home on February 8, 1974, a month after being born to a 17-year-old girl, and for that I am eternally thankful. On this day every year she sends me a note telling me she is thinking of that day and of sitting in that little yellow Porsche of ours with me in her lap staring at her with big blue eyes. I doubt in that moment she could have imagined me ever being thirty-nine years older.
Now just today Ali and I were sitting in the shade while the kids alternated between climbing in our laps and bowling with a ball and two Coke bottles for pins. With Lowe looking in Ali’s eyes she teared up and said that she was going to miss her baby. Lowe is definitely making the transformation these past few weeks from baby to little boy and I don’t think either of us could have ever imagined that we could miss the baby stage—but we now know we will.
Then later on when I got that e-mail from mom it occurred to me all at once that one day I’m going to be sending notes to my 39-year-olds—and in that moment my mind was blown. Growing up and being a parent does that to me.
I hope my kids will feel as fortunate as I do.