It’s Third’s 17th birthday today. Just one more year of being under my tutelage and, poof! he’s gone.

Third is my last kid, so the big one-seven is kind of a big deal. Well, not to him. Sixteen means getting your license, and 18 means getting your wings. Seventeen, according to Third, is a bit of a yawn.

But not to me.

Seventeen is a big deal to me. It’s the start of my final year with this guy. And if memory serves, this year is going to fly by at breakneck speed.There’s still a lot of nagging motherly advice I need to cram into him. I don’t have a minute to spare.

The clock is ticking.

As we emptying nesters are prone to do, I succumbed to a bit of reminiscing today. And, of course, quilts were involved.

The very first quilt I ever made took me quite a while. The kids were young and we were in the throes of moving from Tennessee to Florida to Texas and finally to Oklahoma in a span of about one year. It’s called pilot training. Next time you thank a vet (please do), be sure to give a box of chocolates to his wife. She’s been through it, trust me.

Quilting kept me sane. And pulling out and working on this quilt in all our different locations that year helped me feel like we still had a “home”.

imageI love this quilt, also, because Third learned to walk on it. Third also took several of it’s blocks and put them in the toilet. Silly Third.

Third when he was about 18 months old. I know, right? So adorable.

Third about 18 months old. I know, right? So adorable.

Amazingly, that didn’t end up being Third’s quilt. It was just my “Experimental-First-Quilt-Family-Quilt”.

This is the quilt I actually made specifically for him when he was about five years old. He doesn’t use it these days. A bit to little kiddish for him. I get that. That’s why I keep it in my hope chest. I’m pretty sure he’ll want it back one day.

imageI love this quilt, though. It’s simple, and the blue in it really made my beach-tanned little Third with his ice-blue eyes look beyond adorable when he napped under it.

So this is why we do it, isn’t it? For memories like these? I not only consider it worth it, but I also consider it pure joy.

Happy Birthday, Third! I love you, kid.

(Sweet side note: After I finished writing this post I scoured my house trying to find my “Experimental-First-Quilt-Family-Quilt” to take a picture of it. It wasn’t in the linen closet. Not in my hope chest. Not in the blanket drawer in the TV room…it was on Third’s very unkempt, unmade bed. Funny how his unmade bed didn’t bother me today…funny how this quilt found its way back to him.)

Happy Day!