11

The first birthday that I have a clear recollection of is the year I turned 11. My favourite hockey team was the Vancouver Canucks and all I wanted was their jersey. When I came downstairs that January morning it was sitting on the counter along side a pair of black wind pants, which quickly became my favourite ensemble. 23 years later that jersey still hangs in my closet collecting dust and carrying memories. 23 years later I have an 11 year old of my own; though he doesn’t quite share the same love as I did for the Canucks.

When your son is born you can’t actualize the transformation into manhood. You know it will happen someday, but you can’t grasp it, then one day you wake up and there he is… taller, a little more complicated and a lot more sophisticated.

If truth be told I am terrified for what is yet to come. I am not prepared for the heartache and heartbreak that comes with raising pre pubescent boys. I wish I could wrap up the softness in your voice, the innocence in your eyes and the not yet jadedness of your heart before a teenager wisps it all way.

I wish I could prepare you, but I know hard earned life lessons only come from enduring the wrath of adolescence and when it’s over, you and I will come out on the other side chalk full of the wisdom and strength to carry on.

So my son, enjoy these days. Enjoy the beginnings, the clean slates and free rein; learn from your mistakes and welcome the messages they will teach you. Some days will get hard and you will feel like giving up, but there will come a time when you look back on these days with nostalgia. Happy birthday to you my sweet Pisces, the boy who made me a mother 11 years ago.

The first birthday that I have a clear recollection of is the year I turned 11. My favourite hockey team was the Vancouver Canucks and all I wanted was their jersey. When I came downstairs that January morning it was sitting on the counter along side a pair of black wind pants, which quickly became my favourite ensemble. 23 years later that jersey still hangs in my closet collecting dust and carrying memories. 23 years later I have an 11 year old of my own; though he doesn’t quite share the same love as I did for the Canucks.

When your son is born you can’t actualize the transformation into manhood. You know it will happen someday, but you can’t grasp it, then one day you wake up and there he is… taller, a little more complicated and a lot more sophisticated.

If truth be told I am terrified for what is yet to come. I am not prepared for the heartache and heartbreak that comes with raising pre pubescent boys. I wish I could wrap up the softness in your voice, the innocence in your eyes and the not yet jadedness of your heart before a teenager wisps it all way.

I wish I could prepare you, but I know hard earned life lessons only come from enduring the wrath of adolescence and when it’s over, you and I will come out on the other side chalk full of the wisdom and strength to carry on.

So my son, enjoy these days. Enjoy the beginnings, the clean slates and free rein; learn from your mistakes and welcome the messages they will teach you. Some days will get hard and you will feel like giving up, but there will come a time when you look back on these days with nostalgia. Happy birthday to you my sweet Pisces, the boy who made me a mother 11 years ago.

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