By Delynda Pilon

I remember  holding my son when he was just a few months old, getting up for early morning feedings, learning the hard way that there is absolutely nothing worth watching on the tube at 3 a.m. and wondering if he would ever sleep in.

I enjoyed every moment of it - I really did, from going from a small purse to carting around everything from extra bottles and diapers to an extra shirt for myself because I’d inevitably get spit up on sometime during the day when we went out. The hardest times were walking the floor with my little fellow when he was crying and I couldn’t figure out why - he was fed, the diaper was changed and he’d been burped. He couldn’t tell me yet what was wrong, and I felt like the worst mom in the world cause I just couldn’t figure out the problem. He’d cry, and you know, sometimes I would too. Then mom or another relative would come along and he’d settle right down for them, and I’d be certain that one of the mothering genes had missed me somehow. Then my dad would tell me to enjoy it while I could, because before I knew it he’d be all grown up.

How many times have we all heard that one?

My boy turned 18 on Friday, and I finally get it. I even find myself saying the same thing to moms who look harried, having just shushed a young one who was fussing for whatever reason. And I know they hear me just like I heard my dad - with a small smile, a nod and a ‘ya, I know’ - but they don’t really hear me. They can’t. They are growing up too, right along with that child, and it is only in retrospect that you realize how precious every little second is, the good ones - like the first ‘love you mom’ and the bad ones - like when Dallas fell at the skating rink and his tooth went through his lip - or the summer I bought him a beebee gun and he shot holes in all of grandma’s planters.

That wonderful collection of memories is the glue that binds families together. From ‘do you remember the time...’ to ‘this reminds me of when...’ and the reminiscing begins. Of course, looking back every parent thinks of things they could have done better. Sometimes I feel like I would make a much better parent now that I can say I am actually an adult then I did back then, but I guess everyone feels that sting at one time or another. But then I take a look at my boy and the guy he has become - kind, loving, a good friend and someone who would never knowingly cause another pain - and I realize that love truly does conquer all, even our own occasional errors in judgment. I am so excited for him and all the adventures that await him, and I am so proud to be able to be a person he still confides in, still wants to spend time with and still influences him.

In the end, being a mom is really the best thing I have ever done - more fulfilling than any interview or story, any job I’ve had or even any other relationship I’ve enjoyed.

Now I can look forward to being a grandma. Someday. And, Dallas, I do mean someday....