Going On 17

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My sweet son,
Seventeen today. It seems hard to believe that it’s already been seventeen years, but then I talk to you and it’s hard to believe that you’re still that young. You are this wonderful blend of mischievous little boy and a man wise from years of living.
Seventeen years ago, I was 29 weeks 6 days pregnant, with water that had been broken for over a week, on an incline bed with my feet higher than my head just trying to keep you in and safe for as long as possible. Your wriggles and squirms against the palm of my hand as we had a serious mom/son talk are forever imprinted in my memory, so too is that first cry we held our breaths to hear

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I’m the 40-something-ish wife of my beloved Computer Guy. I’m the adoring and incredibly proud mom of nine children…two saints…seven in training. I’m my brothers’ sister and my parents’ daughter. I’m a devout Catholic, an avid political junkie, able debater, aspiring home-maker, amazing friend, and I make the meanest Chicken Fried Steak you’ll ever have the pleasure of eating. I’m a homeschooling guru, a writing addict, a sometimes public-speaker, and an advocate for staying true to the person God created you to be. I can’t live in a house with white walls, sing Billy Joel songs while I wash the dishes, will read anything you put in my hands, and am completely obsessed with rhinestones and cute shoes. I am just like moms the whole world over, and then some.

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