Nine

Tomorrow, my baby will be nine. Which is, in fact, blowing my mind. It cannot be that I gave birth to my last baby nine years ago. Can it? That's just not possible.

Oh, but it is. Time really does fly. I would like some of it back, please. No, really. God are you listening? We wish away those difficult years without realizing how quickly time is going to pass on it's own. When they wake up all night long, want to be fed around the clock, suddenly decide they can't sleep unless they are touching both you and their father, take up biting, or tantrum throwing, or spitting, or wetting their pants. Those times we wish for time to fly. And boy does it.

Tomorrow, my chubby little baby boy will be nine. He will be an extremely thin, nearly 5 foot tall nine year old boy. A boy who no longer laughs at Blue's Clues but now giggles hysterically at the word testicles. A boy, excuse me, young man who has risen to every challenge presented him with extraordinary grace.

On his first birthday, I had no way of knowing what 9 would look like on him. At that time, I was full of hope as was his father. I have to take time today to thank our Heavenly Father, for that hope. It's made all the difference. Duncan has already done more than enough to make a mother proud for a lifetime.

At 9, he is less and less enamored with TV. I can see him being one of those weirdos that doesn't own a television someday. Still completely enamored with food, though. Loves good food and is more than a little disappointed when I take the easy way out with dinner (like when we had pancakes last night!) Very much into Star Wars which makes life a little challenging since he weaves it into everyday conversation and I still have never seen the movies so there's a communication barrier.... He wants to go back to Disney at least as much as his Mother does. Wants to invent a mini-Nerf airplane that you can actually ride in, therefore when you crash you bounce. I told him we needed to get that idea to a pro-football player, they have the cash to finance it and probably not enough brain cells left to stop them from actually doing it. He's a Momma's boy yet extremely independent. Doing more and more things on his own. He's funny, really funny. Make-your-tummy-hurt-from-laughing-too-hard-funny. He's determined. He's hopeful yet realistic.

And that, in turn, makes us just plain hopeful. If he can strive for his best life possible all the while realizing the one he has ain't too shabby, then maybe we've done something right. And if we have, in fact, done anything right then the credit and glory go to God. Because we are human and we screw-up more than most.

April 4th is always a very bizarre day for me. Scary, painful memories mixed with one of the three greatest blessings God has ever given me. My messy little brain doesn't always know how to sort-it out. So, tomorrow we stay busy. Busy, busy, busy doing birthday stuff that nine year old boys like. Nerf fights and Wii tournaments. Chocolate chip cake and the arcade. I hope it's everything he wishes for. I hope it's more than he hopes for. Because that is certainly what he has given us- more than we could have hoped for.