If they're grown up, what does that make me?

My oldest son is doing the "moving out" thing. He's 19 and remarkably mature in some ways, remarkably and adorably naive in others. While one part of me is encouraging his independence (shoo! Out of the nest...fly!), the other half of me loves that I can still be his mom. Of course, now it's 'advising him' not telling him what to do!

It's nice to be needed. It's also kind of cool when your kids realize a: you're human, and b: sometimes you really do know what you're talking about because you've been there, done that.

By the way, speaking of being way grown up - my lovely daughter and her husband have decided to make me a g...gr.....grandmother! Come February-ish, I'm going to have to get used to that name. While I do not look or feel like a g..gr..grandmother, I'm ecstatic that such a happy, joyous, miraculous thing is going on in my daughter and I can't -wait- to spoil that child rotten.

However, never, ever forget (say it): I'm 26 in my head.