Happy Birthday, love.

(Posting it a day early since we have a full day planned tomorrow and I need to post this. Need I tell you. It's called, I'll have a five year old tomorrow and I may or may not lose my mind. )

There isn't much that I could write, that hasn't already been said-- Before. 

However, even though every year you get older is too hard to handle, five seems like a huge number. You're F-I-V-E. How did that happen? I didn't say you could do that. Five years ago today I was complaining that you'd never come. That I'd always be big and pregnant and uncomfortable. 

 

Now I'd kill to have you in my belly again where you can't leave, can't get hurt, can't talk back, I can just snuggle you all day long without you saying "Mommmm, I'm hot, let me go. I want to go play, Mom, I'm not a baby" 

Five is a big number, but you're still my babe. I see it in you now. You look like a five year old. When did that happen? When did your face, height, personality change into a five year old? 

Four was so different, I see it. 

I can tell. 

I'm not ready for this. 

I'm going to be a mess when you turn ten, which you're not. 

I didn't approve of that.