Being a Mom at 40

 

Being a mom at 40 means, for me anyway, that I have a grown child living on his own, not with me anymore. Sometimes this makes me sad, but most of the time, I’m very proud that I gave him whatever he needed to be able to leave home and be on his own. This photo is of my son, Ken, me, and his girlfriend, McKinsey last Christmas. Ken is now 21, and I am very proud to be his mom. He is a smart, funny (hilarious really), talented guy who will do great in life. He moved out almost two years ago, not too long after he graduated high school. He’s in college and works at a restaurant here in town, so I get to go by occasionally and bother him about cooking. It is a bit scary that the same kid who couldn’t (or didn’t want to) make his own cheese sandwiches for years now cooks for people professionally. It’s pretty funny.

We went to eat there several weeks ago, and I ordered a cheese sandwich, chips, and mustard.  I like to eat chips dipped in mustard.  It’s simply heavenly.  From the kitchen where he cooks, he could see us sitting at our table.  I’ve always eaten mustard with my chips, but he asked the waitress what table the order was for.  When she replied that it was for my table, he rolled his eyes and shouted out, “What’s with the mustard and cheese sandwich?”.  The waitress looked horrified, and then he told her that I was his mom.  I told her that he was just giving me a hard time.  It was one of many funny moments we’ve experienced.

This week, he and his girlfriend will embark on their first vacation together.  It’s really cool to know that he’s gotten this far and can do this and have fun.  I just love him.  I really do.

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