Seven Years of You- ❤️

They say the days are long, but the years are short — and I never understood how true that was until I became your mom.

Seven years. Seven whole years of being your mom. My oldest boy. My firstborn. The one who made me a mother. And somehow, in the blink of an eye, you’ve gone from that tiny baby I held against my chest to this tall, kind, smart, helpful boy who blows me away every single day.

You’ve always had this gentle soul about you. From the moment you could walk, you were the one picking up toys for your younger siblings, offering to help without even being asked. You’re the kid who holds the door for strangers at the store, who reminds me to breathe when I’m overwhelmed, and who asks deep questions that make me wonder how such wisdom fits inside such a small body.

It’s in the little moments that your kindness shines — the way you share your favorite snack with your brother, the way you kiss your sister when she’s fussy, the way you sneak into the kitchen to help set the table without making a big deal about it. You don’t do it for attention. You do it because that’s just who you are. Helpful. Good-hearted. Thoughtful beyond your years.

But you’re still my little boy, too. You leave socks all over the house. You argue about bedtime. You climb everything like you’re part monkey, and somehow, despite being seven, you manage to lose at least three water bottles a month. And honestly? I wouldn’t trade a single messy, chaotic moment — because it means you’re still little. You’re still mine.

Watching you grow is this constant tug-of-war in my heart. I’m so proud of the boy you’re becoming — smart, kind, helpful, full of questions and curiosity. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t ache sometimes… watching your baby cheeks fade, watching you get taller, watching you need me just a little less.

Being your mom — especially your mom first — has stretched me in ways I never expected. You taught me how to be patient. How to slow down. How to love in a way that’s bigger than fear, bigger than exhaustion, bigger than the chaos of life with little kids.

You taught me how to be your mom. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.

So here’s to you, my sweet seven-year-old. The one who made me a mom. The one who leads with kindness. The one who helps without being asked. The one whose big heart is already changing the world — starting right here, at home.

And to the other mamas reading this, with growing boys of their own — I see you. I know how your heart flips between pride and panic as they grow. I know how hard we try to soak in these fleeting moments before they slip through our fingers.

We’re all doing our best. We’re loving them big, we’re raising them kind, and we’re holding onto their little hands — for as long as they’ll let us.