All Grown Up

Is it already Sunday? Where has the weekend gone?

Went out Friday night to a friend’s restaurant with a couple of my girlfriends. My friend retired from the Coast Guard after twenty years and opened up this very laid back little place. People of all ages hang out, and there’s always a live band on the weekends. It’s tucked away in Palm Harbor in this little conclave with a bunch of other little bars. If you’re ever in the area, check it out: Boyle’s Backyard.

Hung out with one of my favorite little girly-girls yesterday. We walked the dog, watched cartoons, and went to the library to check out some books. Froggy Goes to the Doctor was a personal favorite of hers, so we looked and looked until we located a copy.

Then, I spent the evening at the office playing catch up before coming home to eat junk food and fall asleep on the couch way too early.

How is this my life?

My beautiful baby turns eighteen on Monday. Weird. I remember lying in my hospital bed with him in my lap, just another teenager with a baby, and making him all kinds of promises to make up for the fact that I was completely without any of the skills or maturity I believed it took to be a good mother.

His father and I were both children ourselves. We knew each other enough to know we wouldn’t make it, though, so I guess that was a gift. But my son had a hard time growing up without a father. Somehow, though, he’s okay. Everything hasn’t gone as smoothly as I would have hoped, but he’s turned out allright. He’s got friends and a girlfriend and plans. I just sent in the deposit for his college – my alma mater, University of Tampa. I couldn’t be prouder of him.

Well, if he’d start getting his dirty clothes into the hamper instead of somehow creating that little clothes flower around the edges of the hamper, I’d be a little bit prouder, I guess.

For his birthday, we’re playing hooky from work and school to drive over to Orlando to go to Disney World. We’ll ride all the rides, act like kids, and I’ll forget for a few hours that soon he’ll be all grown up with a family of his own.

Then we’ll come back to our little home in South Tampa. I’ll go visit Kahlua and take her that apple. I’ll hang out with friends, go to work, write, and just live, Baby.

This is my life.

And, you know what? I think I’m pretty lucky.

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