It is nice.

He is completely potty trained - goes on his own.
He doesn't use binkis anymore.
No bottles.
No sippie cups.
He can swim around a pool with floaties and be content for hours.
He can walk himself in and out of the store.
Put him in bed, and he puts himself to sleep.
He dresses himself,
puts away his own laundry.
He can tell you when he's hungry,
tired,
sick,
hurting,
gonna throw up.
When he needs me in the night, he gets out of bed and crawls into mine.

Yep.
As much as I love babies....
It is nice.

I know teens are quite often a lot of work and given a pretty bad rap, but it is so rewarding to see the maturity sneak through.  Tonight when I got home Tanner had cleaned up the living room, family room, kitchen and was happily cleaning Braden's room so it would look good when Braden got home in two weeks.  If you knew Braden, then you would understand what a clean-up job that is!  Tanner had even re-arranged Braden's furniture so it opened up the room, hid all of Braden's electronic cords and gave him more space to work.
I didn't ask Tanner to do any of this.
He wasn't rewarded with any extra money or privileges.
He just did it.  To be nice to me and Braden.

Very cool.

Braden leaves tonight for two and a half weeks at his grandparent's house.  We  live a mere 3,000 miles away from them.  He gets on a plane at 10:00 p.m. to fly all the way across the country by himself.

He is excited, ecstatic, borderline giddy with anticipation.  His grandparents live on a tree farm with thirty acres to roam, a pond to swim and play in, four wheelers, gardens, a green house and lots of tools for woodworking and building.  Everything a twelve-year-old boy could want in a summer get-away.

A friend called me a few minutes ago to ask if I was ok.  Ok?  Huh?  Then I realized what she meant.  I should probably express my concern for his safety and the dread of having him gone for so long.  I should be a little teary as he steps on the plane.  I should make homemade cookies for him to eat while traveling.  I should write little notes and put them in an envelope for him to open occasionally while he's there to know I love him.  I should be in his room helping him pack - spending a last few quiet hours together.

The truth is, I'm just not that type of mom.  I love him.  He's a great kid and certainly the easiest of my five.  But I've never been that sentimental or emotional.  A small part of me will miss him, but the larger part of me is simply excited for the fun and experiences I know he will have.  I wrote a  packing list, printed it out and sent him off to express his independence by packing himself.  I did not make cookies, but I reminded him on the list to pack snacks for the plane and there are Oreos in the pantry.  Does that count?  ha!

I didn't write little notes, because that kids knows I love him.  He knows that I am so proud I could burst sometimes.  He's intelligent, articulate, polite and kind.  He is already taller than me, broad shouldered and handsome.  He is athletic and musical, and hardly ever passes by me without giving me a hug.  Yeah, he knows I'm pretty crazy about him.

Happy travels, Braden....

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