940.

In less than two weeks, my biggest boy will be turning nine. NINE. The other day I read somewhere that we have 940 Saturdays with our kids from the time they are born to the time they leave home at eighteen. Nine-hundred-forty. That means I am halfway through those Saturdays and have a mere 470 left. Can somebody please stop time?

I cannot believe I am starting the second half of parenting him. I know I will always be his mom, but once he turns eighteen, he no longer needs to listen to me. The shaping, nurturing, molding will be done. Have I done a good enough job? Will I do a good enough job?

It's such a tremendously overwhelming challenge to bring up a child. How on earth is one set of failing parents expected to raise, teach, train and impart wisdom to a child who is impressionable, and comes with no manual?

I know that I have failed and floundered so very much in the last nine years. I don't know if I did anything right. I can see progress and glimpses of maturity, but I honestly think that's more about who he is as a person than how I've been as a mom. If I could go back in time, would I yell less? Would I have more patience? Would I freak out over messes and poopy pants? I'd like to say I'd be calmer but I really don't know. I just know that those days never felt like they'd end.

And now here I am. On the brink of nine more years to teach my boy. Can it really only be nine more years? I know from experience that they are going to fly by. So I feel renewed courage and strength to cherish each day with him. To drink in his utter preciousness. To guide and counsel, extend grace and mercy. To yell less and listen more.

I love you, baby boy.

When you love someone, you'll sacrifice

You'd give it everything you got and you won't think twice

You'd risk it all, no matter what may come

When you love someone

- Bryan Adams