My older son turned 15 yesterday, and for the first time in his life I had to stand on tip-toe to give him a hug and a birthday kiss on the cheek.

The day before that, my youngest child – also a son – turned 13, officially upping my teenager count to three (though I'd been unofficially considering him a teenager for the past two months). He got tickly mommy kisses on the neck, because I can still get away with that with him. My older son would have tolerated it, standing stiff as a board praying it would be over soon. So I went the more sedate route with him, sparing him the discomfort of crazy mom stuff.

And don't start me re: "remember when they used to…!" or you'll never shut me up.

Okay, just one. I remember the year they got matching ride-on battery powered police motorcycles for Christmas. The battery power didn't allow for anything resembling speed, so it was like watching a miniature police chase in extreme slow motion as the motorcade drove 'round and 'round the house. But how they loved those! And how quickly they broke.

Did I mention back then mom wasn't battling grey hair and arthritis in her knees?

I'm shutting up now.