My oldest child turned nineteen a
few days ago. I know it sounds cliché,
but I wonder where the time has gone.
Evan is finishing up his sophomore
year of college and celebrated his second birthday away from home last week. Prior to his moving on campus, his birthday
was a day we would always do something special for. Over the years, we would usually go out for a
family dinner on his birthday and have a party for him most years too.
I vividly remember each one because
I made a small scrapbook for him of each of his birthdays from the day he was
born to his 17th birthday. The
scrapbook was my gift to him for his 18th birthday—the first one
away from home. As our firstborn, we
provided some pretty elaborate birthday parties for him. I can’t imagine Evan not remembering his
parties or the attention we lavished on him.
In comparison, I don’t think I ever
had a birthday party growing up. I
remember going to a friend’s house for her party when I was about five years
old. I was in awe of the event and how
she was showered with so much attention.
The only celebration I can remember was when I was about eight years
old. There weren’t any kids invited to
the house, but I remember having a German chocolate cake—my favorite. It was a memorable occasion because my
parents remembered that small detail about me.
I was nineteen too when I finished
my sophomore year of college. I was
attending a small liberal arts college 200 miles away from home. I spent the summer between my sophomore and
junior year housesitting for a professor and working on campus. I loved my independence. Looking back now, I’m sure that decision must’ve
caused my mother much pain as I also chose to never live at home again. But I know God opened that opportunity to
protect me from the dysfunctional environment back home.
Thankfully, my son will return home
again this summer. We will adapt to
having another mouth to feed and watching him come and go on his own
schedule. It is the new rhythm of letting
go. I am choosing to enjoy it for as
long as it lasts.
And so how do you make a birthday
memorable after so many well documented parties and dinner outings? You turn to the simple.
To celebrate Evan’s 19th birthday,
we didn’t shower him with attention, parties and presents like we did in the
past. He came home for the weekend and
enjoyed some family time. It was nothing
fancy—dinner on the grill, video games with his brother and a bit of TV with
the family. And for the first time ever,
I made it just a bit more memorable (for me anyway), by baking him a birthday
cake. Proving that even at 19, parents
do still have a few tricks left up their sleeve.
So for this mom, who tries hard to make her kids’ birthdays special, simple was a good change. And less really was more.
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