Ten years ago I met my first kid.
He was pretty rad. He still is.
There must be something magic about double-digits because this morning Alex set his own alarm? And by the time I was just stumbling into the kitchen to make coffee, he was not only up, but dressed and totally ready for school? Then tonight I went to go scoop the dirty laundry off his bedroom floor and oddly, it wasn't there?
BECAUSE HE'D PUT IT IN THE HAMPER.
Age ten! Right? I'm a big fan. So I wanted to do something special for his birthday. I mean, it's a BIG birthday. Double digits. I can't be the only one who cries about shit like this.
So I asked him what he wanted to do and he said he wanted to "GO SOMEWHERE." He didn't specify. So I did some paycheck math and figured out that I could stretch it and buy two tickets to California to visit my parents for his birthday. I e-mailed my mom to double check that they'd be around this weekend and she immediately called me back with a MUCH better idea.
When I picked the kids up from school Monday, we played 20 questions until someone guessed it right:
We're going to Disneyland! I am unreasonably excited. I haven't been there since high school and I can't wait to re-experience it through my own kid's eyes. Even more than the park itself or the time with my parents (or the fact that they bought the tickets!), I'm excited about having ALONE TIME with Alex. I haven't had more than a night with him since Genoa was born. As much as she's bummed about not getting to come (we promised her the same trip for HER tenth birthday), I feel zero remorse about leaving her with her dad.
Three nights, four days, just me and the first boy I ever loved. The boy who - ten years ag0 - taught me what love IS.
I'm the luckiest mom ever.