Happy Birthday, Adam!

OK, look at us and tell me how is it possible that we have a 20-year-old son? I mean, if we're only 30-ish (give or take a decade), how can we have a son who's 20? It's not physically possible. And, yet, there it is.

Here's a pic of Chuck and I at a lovely little bistro last month in New Jersey. Now, honestly, if you didn't know how old this hot, young couple was, what would you guess? 30? 32? OK, 35 tops? (You know, I have super-powers and can hear you laughing all the way out here in the suburbs of Philly. So, you might want to knock it off.)

Twenty years ago at this very moment, I'd just received a gift from heaven - an epidural. Unfortunately, I still had four hours to go before the biggest blessing/pain in my ass would officially arrive on the planet. Adam Mitchell Schubert came barrelling into the world at 2:22PM MST on Monday, May 8th, 1989. All kidding aside, it was one of the two best days of my life (the other day was two years and eight months later when Ethan was born.)

I remember lying in the hospital bed and cradling my newborn in my arms. We stared at each other and had a truly out-of-body experience. It was a connection I'll never forget. As crazy as it seems, I believe we "bonded" at that very magical moment. And right after that, I had this thought: "Oh my God - someday this sweet, little baby will be a TEENAGER!!!! Help, doctor, put it back!!"

And, it's true. That sweet, little baby did become a teenager. Somehow, we both managed to make it through those (frightening) years, and now Adam is heading directly for adulthood. And that, my friends, is nothing short of crazy. Like Jerry said, what a long, strange (fun, amazing, incredible, frustrating, fascinating, mind blowing) trip it's been.

Here's what our tiny baby looks like now. He used to be a geek who wore only sweat pants and t-shirts. Now he's in college and is a super-cool drummer in a punk rock band called Combat Crisis. And, damn, he's kinda cute! At least we know where he gets his good looks (see pic of Chuckie-poo above) and talent from (see pic of moi above).

So, please join me in welcoming my little, baby Adam (or, Amo, as he called himself until he was two. "What's your name?" random stranger would ask. "Amo!" he'd reply. And I thought I'd taught him never to talk to strangers...) into his third decade of life.

Happy 20th, Adam, and many, many more!

All my love, Mom.;-)