I've cried twice in the last week.
And it isn't because I haven't caught up with laundry from last week's illnesses, or that the bags suitcases under my eyes aren't miraculously disappearing as promised by the uber-expensive cream I purchased last month. It isn't even because I just found out that my Big Three are scheduled to have soccer practices at the same exact time, but in three different locations this season.
Those are small potatoes-tater tots really.
Last week, my first child turn eleven.
And he's such a good kid, even if my neurosis ran on overtime when he was first born. G has been my partner in this mothering journey; and he has become such a patient child as I grow with him as his parent. He's had the toughest job; I've tried everything on him first. And yet, he is cheerful and understanding, with such thriving optimism.
I cried the night before his birthday, when I thought of how much I've had to Trust this entire experience, at each step of the way. In people, in God, and in G himself.
The second time I cried was actually this afternoon, as I held this in my hand.
It's the 3rd revision of the manuscript I started last November, during NaNoWriMo. And it's getting better, not quite the Full Of Suck that it was as a first draft. This one is my child too, and she is growing up. And I love her so much that I've decided that she will be the first novel I will try to share with the world.
But in order for me to do that, I have to let her go too; to Trust: in my critique partners and beta readers, that they are honest and hard, in the keeping of my own voice in every sentence that's on paper, and in my dream, despite the obstacles I know I will have to overcome.
I go to bed tonight tired but content, but not before slathering twice as much eye cream in hopes I seem somewhat rested tomorrow.
I hope you all have a great week! Thank you for being here, to listen, throughout all of these milestones!