A Grizzly Birthday

Our boy made his daddy proud.
He chose to have a "Butler" party.
Naturally, he didn't want the Butler "B" on the cake.
He wanted the Grizzly.

I stress myself out every year.
Over the birthday cake.
I may have mentioned that before.
I can't remember.
It's ridiculous really.
But I just want the birthday kid to be excited about their cake.
And I am not an artist.
At all.
But I don't want to pay the money for someone else to do the cake.
So I stress myself out.
And do it myself.

So here's my version of the Butler Grizzly.

We, of course, have no lack of Butler items at our house.

He was excited when Daddy came home with a big foam #1 hand.
He's showing 5.
4 fingers on one hand.
Plus one big foam finger on the other.

Waiting for Daddy to take his picture.

The required picture.
In the chair.
In front of the presents.

Searching for one final present.
In Grandpa's pick-up.

Then he spots it.

Gotta get to it as quickly as possible.

Pretty happy.

I'm having a hard time putting into words my feelings tonight.
So excited for my little man.
And the new experiences he will have as a 5 year old.
At the same time.
So sad to see my baby growing up.

Quitting now.
Or I will wake up my hubby.
Who is snoring next to me on the couch.
With the sobbing that will take place.
If I dwell on all of this any longer.

Happy birthday, Jobie Bear.
Your momma loves you so very much.

Bubbles and Jobe

I'm beginning to understand.
Why the baby in the family is spoiled.

I didn't intend to spoil him.
Really, I didn't.
It just happens.

All of the kids' friends don't help.
Especially Brookelynn and Jake's.
They carry him around.
Tell him how cute he is.He's still so tiny.
But at least he's growing.
He finally outgrew most of his 3T pants.
But 4T shirts still swim on him.I'm trying to get him ready for kindergarten.
Learning all those important things.
Letters and numbers.
Writing his name.
Cutting with scissors.
Wiping his own bottom.
(He's been stubborn on this one.
But I'm certain his teacher next year
will thank me for teaching him this skill.)
He told me today:
My voice is changing.
Don't you think Momma?
Doesn't it sound different?Walking home hand-in-hand this morning.
After taking Ezra to school.
Me: Jobie, how much do you love your mommy?
Jobie (in a loud voice and with a big hop):
A bunch!Then I asked him:
How much does Mommy love you?
He answered:
Forever!No wonder I spoil him.
He always has the perfect answer.

Growing Up Is Hard...

On Mom.
You might have heard/felt my inward gasp last night.
Around 9:00 or so.

Brookie plays soccer.
Wears a lot of long socks.
Legs not visible a lot.
Except at school.
Everyday.
Forgot about that.
Any idea where this is going?By the way.
Her team won the soccer tourney in KC.Back on topic.
Long socks.
Legs.
Growing up.
Hair.
I've probably said enough.Last night after her shower.
Passing each other in the basement.
Outside of her room.

Brookie:
I used your razor in the shower.
Me (stopping in my tracks):
On your legs? (duh)

I just couldn't help it.
It completely took me by surprise.
We haven't even discussed shaving.

True.
She's had more hair on her legs than me.
Since she was 5.
Really.
I just don't have much.
I go for days.
Sometimes weeks (in the winter).
Without shaving.
Some All of you didn't want to know that.

Brookie:
Yes.
Me:
Ok. I guess I need to buy you some razors, huh?
Brookie:
Yes.
Me:
Okaaaaaay.
Brookie:
No, no, no. You don't have to.
Me:
Yes, yes, yes. I will.

Somewhere in the middle of all that,
I felt her legs.
They were really smooth.

I went upstairs.
Told Ryan.
His response:
WHAT?

I really was much calmer than him.
(At the time)
Told him it was ok.
She's right.
It probably was time.

Today.
I've had time to think about it.
Just another step.
That scares me.
I'd rather she stay little.
Sometimes.
But I also love the young lady she is becoming.
And the talks we have.

My girl.She's a beauty.
With smooth legs.