Spring photos.
Today my son Chris celebrates his thirtieth birthday. When I turned thirty myself nearly thirty-six years ago, I thought it was the beginning of the end. I had never expected to live so long (!) and here I was with no clear idea of what I wanted from the rest of my life.
I met my husband just over a year later and the rest is, well, history. I became a mother on the warm May Sunday of Memorial weekend in 1986, and didn't really know what to expect from motherhood. The screaming baby I'd anticipated was, in fact, very quiet and easy. He slept all night at two and a half weeks and simply came along with us wherever we went.
Of course, the simple early months ended as soon as my active pre-toddler struggled to climb out of his crib, playpen and stroller. For the next five or six years, my "escaper" had to be watched every waking minute and held tightly whenever we went outside. Fortunately, hockey became a favorite sport. After Chris' first hockey practice, he lay in Bob's recliner, sprawled in the chair from exhaustion, and I realized that I had inadvertently found an activity that would both capture his interest and provide a healthy outlet for his restless spirit.
An active, headstrong child is a challenge to raise, but I'm very proud of the way he turned out. My now thirty-year-old is skilled, competent and successful in business and in life. More important, Chris is a good person with a kind and generous heart, whose boundless energy and creativity are contagious.
I now view the decades as a continuum rather than discrete blocks of time, and thirty is simply a point on the maturity scale, with lots of room for growth. For Chris and all who reach this milestone birthday, I hope thirty is the gateway to a future filled with a happy family and good friends.
