I don’t know how to handle this. Really? I mean 9 years old? When the hell did that happen?

At the beginning of February, my sweet boy turned 9 years old. 9. I’m really having a hard time wrapping my brain around that number. It just doesn’t seem possible 9 years have gone by. If I think about it, a lot of things have transpired over the years, but 9 years worth? Part of me is just in denial, because I don’t want to admit I’m 9 years older, but that’s a whole other blog post. Is he really 9? Am I really the Mom of a 9-year-old?

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This is Wyatt when he was 6 months old. We were both very different then. He was a happy, charming baby, who loved to snuggle in the rocking chair while breastfeeding. He was so smart, loved to hum Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. I was a married Mom, on a break from being a nanny, trying to figure out how to get more sleep. Life was very different then. But life was also wonderful in that magically way those first few months of Motherhood can be. Don’t be mislead, I too suffered sleep deprived insanity many, many days his first full year. What I remember most is the way Wyatt and I were bonded to one another. I like to think it wasn’t all due to the fact that I was a milk production company, the likes of any roadside dairy you see driving on Highway 5. Instead, I like to think the two of us have a spiritual connection that only we share. Every Mommy is bonded to her child in one degree or another. How could you not be bonded after turning over your body for 9 months, laboring for what seemed like days on end, and then feeding, nurturing, diapering, singing to, strolling around…I’ll stop cause I’m getting exhausted just thinking about it.  It’s hard not to look into those big brown eyes and see that twinkling smile and not absolutely melt. Side note, yes, I am aware that as he grows up I will have to beat the girls off him with a stick. Aware and fully prepared!  But has so much time gone by, and has so much changed?

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Fast forward 8 and a half years and here we are. Wyatt is a charming, go getter, with a passion for Pokemon and Minecraft. He’s a leader in his class and his school. He’s eager to begin his independence as a young man (right now it’s all in the form of mouthing off to his Mother), and discover the world he lives in. He also still loves hugs and kisses from him Mom (that includes in front of other people. I feel lucky on that one.) Me, I’m a divorced single Mom of a great 9-year-old. I work full-time as a nanny, with a family I have been with for almost 8 years. I’m in an amazing relationship with a good man, (we’ll call him Great Guy). I’m spreading my wings, by taking opportunities that come my way. Are we the same? Not exactly. But our connection is absolutely the same, there are just more aspects of it. Now mutual respect and understanding is required. Now, there are longer discussions about feelings and actions. Now I’m far less of playmate/Mommy, and far more mentor/Mommy.

Has 9 years changed us? You bet! We have been through so much together, just him and I. The magic of these 9 years are the memories we have created, the triumphs we shared, and the continued strength we give each other. I may not be ready to admit that I am old enough to have a 9-year-old son. Because I really want to hold on to my youth by digging my claws into it and holding on for dear life. (I can’t get old. I won’t get old, I refuse to get old…) But I wouldn’t change the place we are in, the time we have had, or the life that we live together for anything in the world. He’s 9, and I have loved him since the day I knew he was conceived. So, I’ll take these 9 years as a badge of honor, and look forward to the many more to come.