In two weeks, I will be the mother of a 12-year-old boy. I'm not one of those moms who declare, "Where did the time go? They grow up so fast!" No shit. I'm well aware of every day that passes, every minute, every hour.
Addison found a dictionary given to him at school a few years ago last week. It said, "To the Class of 2017." Wait, what? That's in seven years. Seven years may seem like a long time to most, but for me, I have exactly seven years left to make the most of every second with him. He's my only child. I have one shot to make him a productive member of society, to teach him manners, to nurse him through his first broken heart, to teach him everything he needs to know before venturing out into the world on his own.
Though I wish Adam didn't have to deploy, I am a realist at certain times. This is my time to spend with Addison, to make memories with just me and him. I want him to look back someday and remember that although Dad was deployed, Mom tried her hardest, we had fun, we laughed, we cried, we bonded. I have no doubt Addison will always be close to Adam and I. He's a good kid. But I also feel him beginning to test his independence. The upcoming teen years will be hard. The day he gets his license and drives off on his own I will be a wreck.
But I won't worry about that now. I have a few years left to cherish this time, to grab every day by the balls and make each and every day special.