My little boy is all grown up

I just walked past our youngest son on my way into the house, as he was on his way out of the house for his last day of high school.

As I walked by said youngest son, I gave him a big hug and wished him a fun day on his last-official day of school.

Russell is ecstatic to be finishing his high school career. Mother and Father are too.

He couldn’t be more ready to let those double doors close behind him at 3:10 this afternoon.

I know he is well prepared to move on and become an even greater person than what his father and I already think he is. He is responsible, hard-working and fun-loving. For instance, just the other day I tried to convince him to write a really hokey paper about Macbeth, since it shouldn’t affect his grade. I thought he could title it about Macbeth, but then write a paper about our cows.

He refused and thought it was the dumbest thing he had ever heard.

Russell has always been an entertaining child.

From the time he was a baby the kid always has had a smile stretching across his face. And talk about a handsome baby – oooh, I received so many comments on my handsome boy. Still do.

Russell was always the instigator when it came to him and Joey doing things out of the ordinary here on the farm. He’s the one that decided to turn an old bed frame into a sled to pull behind the four wheeler.

I haven’t really had a ton of time to sit and think about how much I am going to miss him. I do get little snippets of time to look at things, which makes my eyes water.

Just the other day I was sitting in Steve’s well-worn office chair and looking at a photo frame with tons of pictures in it. My emotions came out, when I realized that my days with my youngest son running around the house and pestering me are numbered.

In that frame, is a picture of him pushing a Tonka dump truck across our yard when he was about 4-years-old.

Another picture of him shows my two little men snuggled on my lap, sleeping. Those times were so precious.

Or the picture of him “doing” my hair in 27 little ponytails.

In my book, Russell is one of the world’s greatest sons. There are three: Joey, Russell and my higher power.

Every mother has a right to think her sons are the greatest. You can’t tell me Mary didn’t think her son Jesus was pretty awesome when he brought Lazarus back to life.

Years ago, Grandma Up-the-Hill, may she rest in peace, looked at me as I sat next to her, in her small Catholic church.

I leaned over and kissed Joey on the forehead. Grandma looked at me, noticed I had tears in my eyes and asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” I replied. “I just love him so much.”

“Don’t ever be afraid to show everyone just how much you love him,” Grandma said.

I live by those rules! Every mother should live by that quote. (I still miss my Grandma and hope she is helping me raise two amazing farm boys. That’s what she called my sons.)

Russell and Joey both hate it most of the time – the public show of affection.

I didn’t care if people thought I was rude for walking out onto the football field at Russell’s last game to give him a huge bear-hug. It was an amazing hug! We were both so sad football was over.

I don’t care if Russell gets a bit mad if I holler his nicknames Buddha, R.P. or Tractor at other sporting events. Or if I whistle for him when the stands are quiet. Or if a make a silly banner about kicking the opposing team members in the knees.

I know Russell really gets annoyed when I secretly go into the school parking lot and stick Hello Kitty stickers on his car or use Tinkerbell stickers on the football players’ lockers and coach’s classroom window.

“That way you will know I was thinking of you when I drove past the school,” I say.

He hates it, but 20 years from now, I know he will understand the significance. He will smile when he sees Hello Kitty on his coffee mug that I provided for him to use as he works in the fields.

Steve and I have done our best and dang-nabbit, he turned out to be a really great soul.

We are so proud of him and our world is more complete with him in it.

Leave a Reply

%d bloggers like this: