Greyson Rudy, 12 years old

Booboo, 
geez, oh man. time is really moving now - you are only about an inch shorter than me, definitely stronger than me, and making strides in maturing in all the ways. It seems impossible the way time works, but here we are - the baby who made me a momma is twelve.

you love fishing and hunting and sports best of all. whatever is in season for sports is your favorite but you'd love to go fishing or hunting anytime. you wish you had a phone; mostly every other kid you know does, but we've talked about all the reasons why we want you to wait until eighth grade and you seem to at least understand our rationale enough to not be mad about it. you are fully self-sufficient at carrying the responsibility of school (homework, due dates, studying, asking for help when you actually need it, and speaking to your teachers) and although no one is expecting you to be valedictorian (LOL) - your grades are respectable and you take accountability for your own work (whether it is great or a bad one) which is what we do expect.  

You despise chores and we have to do a lot of talking about 'doing it right the first time so you don't have to do it again' - and also 'doing the whole job; seeing it through until it is completed.' Although you are always willing to help in the kitchen; making meals, chopping up vegetables, or creating sauces. You are big help too when Dad is working on a project (you love power tools and the immediate gratification of seeing something transformed). It is nice to have another set of strong arms and steady hands when it comes to that (I am grateful to be let off the hook!) You learn best from your grandpas and I will always be grateful for their patience and their handyman lessons for you. 

You made your own money this year. First ump'ing a machine pitch game at our Little League field and then mowing a local lawn once a week. You are learning the true value of money that you've earned through sweaty, hard work and I am hopeful to see you grow out of that 'money is burning hole in your pocket' tendency (fingers crossed!)  

There is no denying that you are our resident teaser. Lord, help us all be grateful for the thick skin you so generously help us grow. Your younger siblings will be stronger, faster, tougher, and wiser because of growing up in a house with you - but good grief, dude. You redeem yourself pretty easily though with the sweetness you bestow to your baby sister Olive and the glorious fake beating you take from Red and Rusty (flying across the room when they play punch you). You make Violet feel like an ally in all your schemes and despite your constant sibling rivalry that stews under every interaction between you and Gem, you find ways to make her smile in little moments. 

Being an athlete is a huge part of your identity. The other day you were talking about someone in your school and you called her, "some emo girl" and I asked if you've ever talked to her. You said no because she's probably weird. And I asked you, "do you know how many people probably call you 'that dumb jock'?" You were appalled and said, "I'm not like that!" and I said well that's probably how that emo girl feels too. It has always been my mission to remind you that you are more than an athlete. But also to help you see and be an example that everyone is all kinds of things if you only take the time to know them. 

the other day after a game you asked me, "Are you proud of how good of a baseball player I am?" and I said, "yes, booboo. You are a great baseball player, but I'm mostly proud of the teammate you are." 

Because Booboo, the thing is you have athletic genes running through your body and, yes, you work hard to be a great athlete, but you also just flat out love to do it. And you have your daddy's coordination cheater codes in your DNA and a mother who played catch with you for endless hours since you were three years old. So being a great athlete isn't the thing that makes me proud. 

• I feel proud when I watch you walk up to your teammate who made an error and give him an encouraging word and pat on the shoulder.
• I feel proud when you make a great play and then high five your teammates and just get back to playing the game with no showboating
• I feel proud when you look adults in the face and have a conversation with them after the game; you thank them for coming and smile and answer their questions with humble enthusiasm
• I feel proud when you try sports that aren't exactly in your wheel house, so it looks awkward and uncomfortable, but you still try and laugh about it (and then end up mastering it which is so annoying just like your Dad, but I'm grateful you were first willing to try something new)
• I feel proud when you are excited to tell me about the game that I couldn't be at because I was at one of your sibling's games - so I get the 'fishing story' version while I watch your animated face and gestures walk me through the important parts of the game (I love hearing and watching you tell me about the game so much that it almost makes up for the guilt/sadness at not always being able to be at every game)
• I feel proud when you have patience with your little brothers and sisters when you play and teach them new skills and encourage them on their progress.
  
• I feel proud when you attend your siblings' games and cheer and clap for them
• I feel proud when you come home from a game whooping and cheering because your teammate and friend had the most amazing play and it was the best part of the game
• I feel proud when you stop to talk and laugh with your opponent who you've played against all the way up through the leagues and sports
• I feel proud when you get in the car and ask Dad what your "aw shit" was so that you can work on fixing that error for next time
• I feel proud when younger kids come up to talk to you at the field or court and you look them in the face and you stop to chat with them
• I feel proud when you help carry a teammate's equipment, or you help clean up after the game, or make a point to thank the refs or concession stand workers. 

I am happy to spend my life trying to help you see that being an athlete is so much more than just being good at the sport. And you are well on your way proving that to be true - how proud I am of THAT. 

You know what is so crazy, you've made it to the age that I can see you having patience with me! You try to have.patience.with.me!! I'm your parent who doesn't know all the 'cool' things and doesn't listen to the 'cool' music and makes up rules that are annoying and is usually a mean mom - but I watch you take a breath and have patience with your old mother. Oh gosh, after twelve years of digging deep into my soul to have patience with you, child, and to see that on your face - hah! 

But, we are entering the long, winding, dark forest of growing up (and raising up) and something about the two of us both looking into each other's face resolving to have patience really gives me hope. Because neither you nor I have any idea in hell how this is about to go, at least we are both willing to try to be patient with each other. 

I read recently an article written by a mother of a teenager where she said something like, "everyone hates the teenage years, but it is my favorite." and I am determined to make that true for me. I want to enjoy your silly jokes, your wild energy, your cartoonishly fast growing body, all your middle school and high school milestones and firsts and lasts (gulp!), your forever misplaced crap, your angsty moody ridiculousness, your bottomless pit of hunger, your frustrations of wanting to be fully grown but your still present need for having a momma in so many ways like you always have needed me. 

I know I'm not going to be part of it all. Gosh, how that hurts my mother's heart because I will always be able to see the baby curve of your cheek when I look at you no matter how grown you get. But I also know that's the thing about growing up. I lose you little by little,
but you find you;
you find your own life and friends and loved ones and adventures and wins and losses and experiences and joy and scared and mistakes and get-back-ups, and lessons and all of it. It is yours.

and there is no greater pride in my life than to get to watch it all unfold for you.
my boy.
my biggest baby.

this will be your last birthday post on the internet because really it's not my story to tell to the world anymore (it probably never was, but that's what you get for having a writer for a mother - sorry). you are on your way to figuring it out and some privacy and consent and buffer should be available through the next few years of wilderness that is growing up. I can't promise I'm going to get it all right (just like I know I haven't in the twelve years before), but I do promise to do my best by you and to love you through it. And to observe and cheer for you (just like I always have - "watch this momma!")

thank you for being a patient guide through motherhood
how grateful I will always be for that
I will love you forever
even when you get bigger than me
even when we both feel like strangling each other
even when we are both taking a deep breath to find patience for one another
my booboo,
I will be loving you,
momma.