I'm not ready... {Please stay 11}

I realized something tonight. Not that I didn't know it before.. but for the first time, I really, truly felt it. Deep in my gut, like a sick, wanting to throw up feeling. As I dropped Isaiah off at his friend's house (a friend I'm not too enthusiastic about)... the whole 3 minute drive home, I wanted to seriously throw up. I don't know if it's because he's my firstborn, only son... I do feel that has something to do with it, but I am SO protective of him. He's my first, I've made all my mistakes with him. I've learned how to be a mom as he's grown, both of us, together, along the way. I try to avoid mistakes, if at all possible. If I have any control over it, I don't want to screw up.

He's on the brink of teenager-hood (if that's a word) and I don't want to let him go. In just 8 short months, he'll turn 12. Then 13, 14, and so on. I'm not ready. Rich keeps telling me not to worry, Isaiah is a good boy. And I agree, he is. I just don't want him getting any older than he is right now. I want to freeze time. He's still my little boy. And I want it to stay that way.



I'm afraid I won't get much sleep tonight.

Isaiah, on his 11th birthday