Mathäus turns 19 tomorrow. His last teen year.
Eighteen was huge for him. High school graduate! Bank account! Summer job! College freshman! It’s been emotional (let’s be honest, adulting sucks sometimes), it’s been frustrating (spoiler alert: sometimes you don’t quite gel with your professors), and it’s been stretching (17 hours of classes + work study + volunteering + college paper + soccer = being spread thin).
Nineteen feels smaller; more of a slow build to the inevitable eye-opener of 20.
The transition to adulthood is, I think, going well. Mathäus is handling his own finances, scheduling his own appointments, managing his own time. There’s still some “under our wing” safety net in place, but it’s minimal. I’ll be honest— I braced myself for a summer return that involved the chafing I remember so well from my own youth and have been pleasantly surprised. This is a young man who doesn’t mind checking in, chipping in, and being all in. He’s the guy who sees what needs to be done (“The trash is full.”) and takes the next step (“I’ll take that out.”) Big Momma sigh of relief right here. We all want to raise that man, and by the grace of God alone, I seem to have done it.
Right now, the big birthday plan is either doing another day’s labor on a local farm that has hired hands for a planting project, or maybe giving himself a day off and spending the day drawing (a new passion that is going to show up on etsy soon, I promise!). I’ll be making a big pan of brownies to celebrate whenever he’s ready. Which is kind of the theme right now. His timing. His call. Because 19 can either be an extension of childhood or a leap into manhood, and this particular guy has chosen the latter.