I vaguely recall receiving my mother into my home for a visit about this time of year, 16 years ago. She was there to await the arrival of a baby girl--specifically MY baby girl, who was born on the 5th of September.
If memory serves, I believe that September 5th also fell on a Saturday, because I remember Saturday morning cartoons playing on the television in the delivery room, right before things got interesting. Inspector Gadget, to be precise.
Just kidding. There were no forceps.
Fast forward (you always fast forward, even when you're trying not to) and there you are with a teenager, a 10th grader, an almost-licensed driver, a singularly determined and very intelligent young lady, and an all around fabulous person (despite the occasional grouchiness) and...that is your kid.
I don't feel old, either--you know why? Because I remember 16: Stress! Worry! Hormones! Boys! Nonsense!
43 is soooooo much easier! I mean....I actually don't give a shit if the guy I like likes me back! Woooo-Hoooo! (hehe....) And I have MONEY! I can buy candy any time I want to! And I have a CAR! How awesome is that?
Anyway....Happy Birthday, Madds. I'm sorry you're only 16, but it will get better, I promise.