My eldest turned 15 about an hour ago. This week he will finish his first college class.

I remember when I thought, “Well, this is when we start needing birth control again. Oh, nope. I’m pregnant.” (I was less than two weeks pregnant at the time.)

I remember crazing sweet and sour chicken and not puking up pineapple upside down cake.

I remember when he was a baby and I’d burp him and he’d throw up.

I remember him telling his baby brother “NO!” when M would cry. It would stop M for a moment and then he would resume. E would admonish him again.

I remember him falling asleep with a hot dog in his hand. With a popsicle in his hand. With a corn dog in his hand. I remember him falling asleep halfway down the chair with some food in his hand.

I remember him fighting with his brother for HOURS at night when he was only seven. They could not be in the same room to sleep. We had a small room, about as big as a walk-in closet, but with a closet included, that we could move M into.

I remember putting all the toys the boys wouldn’t pick up into a giant red tub and putting it away. Six months later I found the GameBoy we had replaced.

I remember him being rewarded for growing up and being more mature by moving into the big bedroom.

I remember him hugging me and saying, “I love you.” (I’m fairly sure he rolled his eyes, but still!)

Happy birthday, son. I can’t believe it has been almost 16 years since you came into my life.