happy birthday.

Yesterday, my oldest turned 7. Seven. That's like, a lot of years. I certainly don't feel old enough to have a 7-year-old. Apparently I am. We were supposed to take cupcakes to school on Friday, but the flu had other ideas. Instead, we had a lazy Saturday and then Mimi & Pa came for birthday boy's choice of dinner. Which was ravioli, shrimp and scallops. I know.

We sat around looking at old pictures, including the pictures of Jackson's birth. (Well, the ones that are fit for company, anyhow!) As hard and exhausting as that day (and night) was, I realized that we birthed more than a baby that day. It was the birth-day of our family. It was the day my parents became grandparents, the day we stopped being just a couple and started being "mom" and "dad." It changed everything for us. The birth of each child is a miracle, but there's a special miracle that arrives with the first one. Now, he's tall and gangly, and when I pick him up to hug him he's like almost as long as me. But he still gives me a kiss before school every day, so I count my blessings.

Okay, I'm done. And no, that is not a tear on the laptop. That's baby drool. From the one that's still a baby. Sniff. Sniff.

Happy Birthday, sweet boy.