Dear Scotty,
No one calls you that anymore, of course, unless they’re being funny. In fact, that was never even supposed to be a nickname for you, but it happens.
So, here we are…18 years later. Would you believe I woke up this morning at 3:30 and thought of you immediately? Oh, I know…you’re already starting to correct me: “You said you went into labor at 5:30, not 3:30.” Yes, but that was Eastern time, so 3:30 makes sense. My body knew it was 5:30 on the east coast. So there. Anyway, here we are. What a wonderful trip it’s been.
You were really a great baby. Aside from the times you peed in my face or somewhere on me, you were good. Oh, there was the near-heart attack you gave me when you decided to dive down the stairs into the basement at just six months old, but I suppose you were just testing me. How fast can Mommy be? Will Mommy panic and pass out when she sees all the blood gushing from my nose? And then at the ER, while I gasped for air and tried through my tears to tell the nurse what happened, I caught you grinning at her. You’d gotten me good with that one, not a thing wrong with you. Little booger!
You were a rather good toddler too, but I say that knowing I’ve blocked out most of those years. The naps you wouldn’t take, the tantrums you threw, the way you’d bang your head on the wall, as if to show me a thing or two. You…were not the easiest child (though I can say with complete honesty, you were a dream compared to your sister!), but there again, I’ve blocked most of it out. Self-preservation, don’tcha know!
Remember when the peanut butter fell out of the truck?
For too many years, off and on, it was just you and me, Scott. We traveled the roads and lived in many places. It wasn’t always good, but one thing was always certain - we had each other.
Oh, do you remember when I was pregnant with Brian and you didn’t want to take a nap, and I was sitting on the floor…how you ran up to me and kicked me, and then ran away laughing, more because I was too pregnant to get up fast enough for anything? So funny now, but boy was I mad at you that day. But one little sentence always went through my head: If this is the worst thing you’ve done, we’re lucky. For a long time, it really was the worst thing you’d done (and who the heck knows WHY you did it, because you never knew!).
Scott, you’ve always been a great person. I have never had any doubt you’d grow up to be a great man. In fact, when people used to ask you what you wanted to be when you grow up, you’d always say proudly - puffing out your chest - “I want to be a man!” Indeed.
You used to say “Actually…” at the start of every sentence. It was the start of a love affair with words, I think, and you felt important using such a big word. You’d say, “Actually, I have to go put on my shoes.” And, “Actually, could you read me a book?”
Speaking of, do you KNOW how many times you made me read “Are You My Mother?” Oh. My. Goodness. I’m surprised I can’t recite it word for word to this day. But it was your favorite, and though at times I thought I would scream if I had to read that book one more time, I loved your adoration of books.
You’ve changed your mind 50-million times in the last few years - about everything. “Here’s the plan!” Your favorite words, it seems. I know nothing is set in stone with you, and I laugh, because in that regard, you’re just like me. (You’re also loyal and care so much for others — that IS set in stone.) How many times do I change my mind? Let’s not count. But every time you come to me with a new plan, it makes me smile. You GET that life is about living it, not just following a straight road to whatever is expected of you. I love that.
In the end, here you are, officially an adult now. And I hope I did all right by you. Because I tell you this — you did all right by me. You’re a wonderfully funny, handsome, charming young man of God, and I couldn’t be prouder of you than I am right now. You may have taken a few detours here and there, and I may not have always agreed with them, but I’ve believed in you regardless. I know the world better be ready, because a great man has just walked through the grand doors of Adulthood, and nothing will ever be the same.
I love you more than you could ever know, and I will always be here for you. Happy Birthday, my son.
Love,
Mom
PS - Don’t forget: When you’ve convinced yourself I’m just an old fart, just remember, you’re a mere 15 years behind me. I can’t wait to have Wheelchair Races when I’m 90 and you’re 75!
