Ten. Diez. 10. One-Oh.

The thing about my kids' birthdays is that not only are they getting older, but it marks my experience level at this whole parenting gig. I mean, you'd think, after a DECADE of parenting, I'd be a bit, well, BETTER at the whole thing, you know??

I'll take credit where credit's due: I'm not a BAD parent. Bad parents don't remember to pack lunches, make sure their kids are fairly clean and have been hugged and kissed several times a day. Bad parents don't sacrifice so that their kids can play soccer, wear cool (used) clothing and have "some" of their hearts' desires. Bad parents don't make their kids redo homework, apologize when they've wronged someone, and shout "brown eyes ARE beautiful!" (over and over) to the daughter who cries for blue eyes like her mom.

Then again, I'm sure a "Good" parent wouldn't let her son wear the same socks 2 (cough3cough) days in a row just to avoid a freak-out since there aren't any other clean socks with the special double lines on the toes. A Good parent probably tries to clear the floor of toys not just because it's a fire hazard but because she values a clean home over watching the final discs of The Sopranos (oooh! We're on the final season. It's getting gooooood. Don't tell me how it ends...). Good parents don't sit at the computer for way longer than I'm willing to admit, typing about the differences between themselves and me....

So. I'm mediocre. Meh. I'm ok with that... Perfect is a bit boring, anyway. What's there to strive for when everything runs smoothly? How could I blog about PerFECtion???

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I DIGRESS.
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Holy Bat Balls. My baby is almost TEN YEARS OLD. Really? How did this little angel...

Who called me his "best fwend..."

Become this boy?

This child on the cusp of teenage years, girls, and Big Questions? That he is closer to 18 years than 18 months?

I have had quite the tear fest this morning, looking through old photo albums. Reminiscing of all that has changed (including my thighs. Dang, I was thin back then...) and all that is yet to change.

Don't know that my little heart can handle it before my second cup of coffee...