My oldest is nine. Thomas celebrated his ninth birthday on May 23rd. I love their birthdays as much as I dread them. I love to watch their excitement with breakfast in bed, opening gifts first thing in the morning, planning what to have for dinner that night. I love talking about what they want for their cake for months. Birthdays are fun.
But at the same time, birthdays are sad. I think in every mothers heart there is a bit of sadness as she celebrates her child's big day. Birthdays mean they are another year older, another year closer to leaving childhood. On his birthday, my mind always wanders back to the day when we drove him home from the hospital. We lived only three minutes from where I delivered him, but those were the most treasured three minutes! I vividly remember how I sat in the backseat next to his big backwards car seat that contained a tiny 7lb. wrinkly little thing. I felt like I needed to protect him. I love that memory I have.
And now, here he is, nine years old. I am so proud of him and love that he is my son. He possesses so many gifts and talents that make him who he is. He is very into bird watching and field guides these days, so he received a pair of binoculars! He is so cute!
But the best was that he requested a Blessed Pope John Paul II birthday cake. Oh Thomas, I love you!