And so it’s 14 now. Fourteen years since you’ve entered our lives.

Well, the very first time I was introduced to you was way earlier and I recall it as if it was yesterday. I was standing in the corridor of our old apartment (do you remeber it?) and it must have been late morning because the sun was shining so bright through the bathroom window and onto the wall that I had to look down while waiting for the pregnancy test to reveal its verdict. As the two positive blue lines appeared I stood there speechless for a couple of minutes, soaking in the fact that a true, tiny 2-week person was growing in my bosom (utter amazingness). Then I rushed to the phone to tell your dad because there was no way I could wait until evening. This happened 14 years, 8 months and 1/2 ago.

I had often wondered how it would be when we would gaze straight into each other’s eyes – check, that’s done now and soon you’ll look down at me. Your physical changes are so impressive lately that I sometimes stop and look at you while you don’t notice. Are you still you, the same you? ‘Cause, you know, a parent expects his children to grow but how, nobody knows. That’s a book that one unfolds one page at a time and that often makes sense only looking back. Your hair has turned from blond to chestnut, you’ve become so much taller and stronger, your figure is changing. Yet, when I look at you carefully, I recognize the same smile; those long eyelashes and something graceful about you that made people sometimes think you were a baby girl even if a dressed you as a boy; that dimple on your chin like your dad and that way you have to make a joke and remain serious while your eyes laugh. Yes, you’re always you.

Happy birthday beautiful boy

I’m happy and proud you’ve chosen me as your mama

* 13 *









Treize ans, ça y est, tu es officiellement un adolescent. Je dis ça à chaque fois, mais c’est vrai, je n’en reviens pas.

Treize ans. Un anniversaire au bowling avec les copains. Un gâteau arc en ciel et un goûter improvisé au parc.  Peut-être le dernier dont tu auras envie avec tes parents.

Treize ans. Des chaussettes en boule à droite et à gauche. Des vidéos sur Youtube que tu nous montres. Une année scolaire un peu rock & roll, rattrapée sur la toute dernière ligne droite.  Des bonnes rigolades. Des blagues. Un corps d’adulte qui commence à se bâtir.

Treize ans. Des hauts, des bas. Des bas, des hauts. De nouvelles interrogations, des doutes.

Depuis quelque temps, quand tu vois cette pauvre maman visiblement larguée,  tu t’arrêtes un instant et me dis, avec une tendresse infinie, ne t’en fais pas, maman, je suis un adolescent, c’est normal. Mon gentil garçon.

Joyeux anniversaire mon grand,

tu es beau et on t’aime.

PS ne t’en fais pas non plus si parfois je perds le fil;

je suis juste une maman, c’est normal.


Thirteen. So you are officially a teenager. I know I say it every time, but this time I truly can’t believe it (ha). 

Thirteen. A bowling birthday party with your friends. A raimbow cake. An improvised snack at the park, maybe the last one you’ll want to share with your parents. 

Thirteen. Your orphan socks lying around. Youtube videos you show to us. A rather rock & roll school year, which you’ve managed to succeed at the very end. Teasing and laughing, a lot. An adult body in the making. 

Thirteen. Ups and downs. Downs and ups. New questionings and doubts.

Lately, when you see this poor mama completely at a loss you pause for a moment and very kindly say to me: don’t worry, mama, I’m just an adolescent, it’s normal. My gentle boy. 

Happy birthday my teenager.

You’ve beautiful and we’re proud of you.

PS don’t you worry either if I sometimes lose it,

I’m just a mama so it’s normal, you know.