As a 30 year old when I say that I have an 18 year old son, it technically means that I was a mom when I was 12, which means I ideally should have been in grade 7. ?Yes, I was in grade 7 and 12 year old when God gifted me a little angle! He turns 18 today and with him, I grow prouder to have him in my life, humbler to know his talents, more grateful to God for letting us have him - in short, I love him more than words can say or emotions can express!
Timir, the son I had at 12, my bro, my nephew, my friend - there's no relationship that doesn't exist between us. I remember holding the tiny, petite, little baby boy in my hands for the first time when he was just a couple of hours old. Tears welled up in my eyes even at an age when I didn't know what motherhood meant. I can never thank my sister enough to have brought Timir in my life. I remember his first cry, his first smile, the way I sued to watch him for any sign of new expression, making him learn how to walk, step by step, making him mischievous, feeding him, running behind him to scare him.... this is when you were just a toddler! I used to take you out as a trophy and take immense pride in it. Your first birthday party was more for me and my friends than for you :-)
As time went by you started growing up. I remember, one day you came home with your head bleeding and there was no one home. You were hardly 4 and I was 16. I still get goosebumps thinking how I took you to doctor and all through the way I kept praying that he shouldn't ask me to get you stitches. And than making you do homework, you used to complaint everyone that I never smile at you and never talk with you lovingly when it came to homework and my chest used to get puffed up with pride of being an elder sibling to at least someone when I had two of them dancing on my head every moment LOL.
And as you turn 18 today, i wish I could wrap you up in a super strong bubble wrap and keep you safe as you navigate through your own life. But, well, I would rather prefer that you run, you fall, you cry, you learn, you get up again, you keep trying till you finally win. I pray that you be given all sort of experiences that would make you richer by the wealth of knowledge.
Many Happy Returns My Darling Timir!
Timir, the son I had at 12, my bro, my nephew, my friend - there's no relationship that doesn't exist between us. I remember holding the tiny, petite, little baby boy in my hands for the first time when he was just a couple of hours old. Tears welled up in my eyes even at an age when I didn't know what motherhood meant. I can never thank my sister enough to have brought Timir in my life. I remember his first cry, his first smile, the way I sued to watch him for any sign of new expression, making him learn how to walk, step by step, making him mischievous, feeding him, running behind him to scare him.... this is when you were just a toddler! I used to take you out as a trophy and take immense pride in it. Your first birthday party was more for me and my friends than for you :-)
As time went by you started growing up. I remember, one day you came home with your head bleeding and there was no one home. You were hardly 4 and I was 16. I still get goosebumps thinking how I took you to doctor and all through the way I kept praying that he shouldn't ask me to get you stitches. And than making you do homework, you used to complaint everyone that I never smile at you and never talk with you lovingly when it came to homework and my chest used to get puffed up with pride of being an elder sibling to at least someone when I had two of them dancing on my head every moment LOL.
And as you turn 18 today, i wish I could wrap you up in a super strong bubble wrap and keep you safe as you navigate through your own life. But, well, I would rather prefer that you run, you fall, you cry, you learn, you get up again, you keep trying till you finally win. I pray that you be given all sort of experiences that would make you richer by the wealth of knowledge.
Many Happy Returns My Darling Timir!
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