Five years ago, I looked at a sleepy, hungry blond stranger and wondered if I'd every really get to know him. He had two perfect handfuls of fingers, and two perfect footfuls of toes. I knew he kicked when he got a taste of tomato sauce and that he hyperventilated when the nurses took him out of the room and away from me. I speak the truth. He had a "rapid breathing rate" (whatever that means) whenever he was away from me; but, put him in my arms, and all was right with the world. I kind of understood where he was coming from. For the first time in months, I felt strangely alone--even in a room full of people. Because, for the first time in months, my little stranger wasn't so strange anymore. No longer were his kicks and scratches things of wonder and mystery. I could see those kicky feet and scratchy hands--whole handfuls of razor sharp nails that I would choose to bite rather than risk sharp clippers. (Gross, but certainly not the grossest part of being a mom; having babies isn't for the weak stomached.).
RJ proved to be a handful. In jest, we call him high maintenance. He demanded to be held at all times and to be fed every two hours. I thought he was perfect and easy. First babies can be like that.
Five years later, he's no longer a stranger. He's my bestie, my shopping partner, my big helper. I can't even really say he's a handful, because deep down, RJ is a pleaser. I joke that he would still be sitting in a high chair if I asked him to--while his baby sister sat in the big girl chair (she is not a pleaser).
But, today, he is a handful. A whole handful. Because, today, my baby turned five--four fingers and a thumb. We're one year away from needing both hands to respond to the inevitable little-boy question, "How old are you?"
He really was this little, and a whole handful ago, he was most content right in my arms.
Now, he's most content in the arms of another woman, and I'm okay with that.
We celebrated with a party just a few days before his actual birthday. The shirt is from last year. I think we got our money's worth out of it.
I really can't believe I have a five-year old. How can I be that old?
These two are ready to party.
And party he did. A special thanks to RJ's Coach Becky at Oklahoma Gold. She taught him for nearly 3 years and made his party something we'll always remember.
He really has been going there for a long time. This wasn't quite a whole handful ago, but time sure has passed by quickly.
The smiles are still pretty much the same. I love when my bestie smiles like this.
GiGi got to play too!
She's going to be the next Nadia. Just keep an eye out for this one. She's going to be famous (or not--I just really like her wee little chunky thighs in a leotard or puffy pants).
Zip line is serious business. He used to be kind of famous for his form (hanging upside down and generally causing every coach and every parent to cringe) until he came crashing down. Now, he plays it safer.
Even with a haircut, his hair is still fabulous.
Happy Birthday to my big boy. My big boy with a big mouth. On arriving at the gym, he greeted his two grandmas, "Heeeeey, Nutballs!" It wasn't my proudest moment.
He wanted to be sure he would have a candle. The rest was just a bonus, and apparently the singing wasn't quite up to his high standards.
These three are buds. And, I'm grateful for that. Because I know exactly how much one special friend can mean, and what kind of difference that can make.
Even the big boys want to swing.
We spent the rest of the day outside flying a giant styrofoam airplane with our family. It was a perfect day.
My bestie is a whole handful, with handfuls more to go. Happy 5th Birthday RJ!
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