Life is a trip. My son turned thirteen today.

It really does feel like it was yesterday that my little guy was born. After a brief touch of crying, he looked up with those dark, observing eyes and quietly took in the view of his awestruck green parents. And we were never the same.

The hospital let us take him home. It felt like we were getting away with something, walking out to our car with this bundle of fragile, hopeful life. “They’re really just letting us walk out of here?”

Thirteen years later: today. Teen guy.

Many of you parents have already crossed this threshold of becoming the mom or dad of a teenager. I often get from the parents of teens a knowing look about what lies ahead for me. I can only explain the look like this: “Sympathy mixed with humor mixed with what looks like the strain of a difficult bowel movement.” It’s a great face, by the way, and many parents of teens make it. You should go to the mirror and try to duplicate my description. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

They know that there is joy, pain, gray hairs, great talks, misunderstandings, chem changes, and all kinds of stuff coming up in the next several years. I’ve got a long journey ahead of me.

We went out to breakfast this morning (keeping in step with one of his favorite statements from his toddler years: “Special times, dad.”). We sat talking, eating, joking – and it all felt so mixed: sadness, joy, celebration.

I think I would put it this way: I’m transitioning. I  appreciate my son now in different ways – his comraderie, his peer conversations. I’ve come to appreciate his jabbing humor, heart for justice, and quiet voice. He works hard; he is focused; he gets down. He has good days. He needs encouragement. He is my son.

So yeah, it’s going to be a long road. But I’m pumped. I wouldn’t trade one gray hair if it meant missing it. And hey: if you see me making that “moving look”, just remind me about what I said here.