Nathan at 30

Thirty.

Today we reach another milestone as parents. Our first-born, Nathan Alejandro, leaves his Twenties behind and begins a new phase of life at Thirty. The Big Three-Oh.

Funny, he could still pass for 22 -- and still gets carded. But the thought of any of our kids hitting that threshold is pretty sobering. Not in a downer kind of way. I'm just sayin'.

Just as it took me aback the first time I was addressed as "sir," or any number of situations as the parent -- first babysitter, first parent-teacher conference, first high school graduation, first college graduation, first wedding where our kid was the one getting married -- this takes a little getting used to.

Thinking back to May 3, 1980, though...it's all good.

Lori and I had been married 4 1/2 years. We were living in Salem. I was working as a newspaper reporter at the Statesman Journal. Lori was working the counter at a health food store, which, in retrospect, was way ahead of its time.

Nathan came along at 8 pounds, 7 ounces and about 21 inches long, as I recall. The stats didn't mean anything to me as long as he was born healthy and whole, and Lori was recovering well after a C-section. (He was in the breech position).

We took him home to our little two-bedroom house at the corner of 24th and Chemeketa, where we'd lay him down in the crib and, like parents everywhere, stand over him, just amazed at the miracle of life and awed by the realization that we were now responsible for his care, every hour of every day.

Two weeks later -- on May 18, to be exact -- Mount St. Helens erupted. I distinctly remember fine layers of volcanic ash settling on the red rose petals in our little backyard -- testament to the hundreds and thousands of miles that the ash traveled in the days after the mountain blew its top. I will always associate that fragile image with the memory of Nathan's arrival.

We named him Nathan -- a Hebrew word that means "gift of God " -- because his birth truly represented a gift. We named his "Alejandro" because we wanted an obvious reminder of his Mexican heritage. In the 30 years since, we have experienced so many different events and emotions with our first-born that have made us laugh, cry, worry, rejoice and laugh some more. In some respects, he's been the guinea pig for our approaches to parenting and the one who's been subjected the longest to our values, our interests and, yes, our predictable mom-and-dad sayings.

It's pretty cool at this point to be the parent of a 30-year-old who has so much more ahead in terms of work, play, romance and family.

Thirty? Bring it on.