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Okay, here we go

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The mommy blog. Or as a co-worker quipped, “the Breeder’s Blog.? Seemed like a really good idea at the time, and it still does. But can I really be having writer•s block already? I’m not even a writer. I think it’s a case of the nerves. Not about my writing, but the subject of my writing, which is my just turned 14-year-old son Alex. And let me just say this right here and now – if anybody knows who he is, and if you EVER tell him I’m writing about him I will be dead meat. Seriously dead meat. So it’s our little secret, alright? Besides, when your kid turns 14 I think it’s just fine to have secrets from him. Do you really want your life to be an open book to him? Especially your life when you were the age he is now? This birthday (Alex’s) was hard for me. I realized that next year he will be starting high school, then off to college or the Naval Academy, and then I’ll never see him again. Dramatic, I know, but really. I’m not ready. For crying out loud he’ll be able to drive a car (legally) next birthday. That in and of itself is enough to make me freeze in panic. (I’m the first to admit that I’m not the best role model when it comes to driving techniques. He’ll definitely be taking driver’s ed.) But his recent birthday and reading about Richie’s little son just brought back so many memories. How can 14 years have gone by already? And when was the exact moment in time he surpassed me in height? I guess for now I can take comfort in the fact that I still outweigh him. I remember the day he was born, of course. I’ve told him the story of it about a thousand times. “I know, Mom, it was raining out. Dad was stuck in traffic. You said the F-word to the nurse. I came out looking like a purple grape.? But I haven•t told him yet of the precise moment I fell in love with him. I remember that too. I also remember looking at him strapped in his car seat and thinking, “I can’t wait until you learn how to talk.? I must have been extremely sleep deprived. So, I hope you•ll enjoy my tales of life with my only begotten son. Maybe you can relate, or empathize. I’m okay with “sympathize? too. Just remember • if he finds out I’m doing this, I’m dead.

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