Lucky Number 7

 Last week (8/26), our biggest buddy turned 7.  

Seriously.  SEVEN.

 Birthday breakfast with Dad....he picked Colonial and had his favorite - french toast.

 I still have a disdain for kids having to go to school on their birthdays!  But such is how things work....so, after breakfast with Daddy, Caleb headed off to school with some small gifts to share with his classmates in celebration of his special day.

After school, a few friends came over for ice cream.

And...presents before bed!

And because on his actual birthday I had to attend Curriculum Night at his school, we had lunch at Red Robin the prior Sunday to do some early celebrating.

 And just this past Saturday, Kris took Caleb and two of his buddies to Epic Air (fun trampoline place) and out for frozen yogurt.

It's still hard to believe that Caleb is already 7.  It's even harder to believe that he's on his way to 8!

  We love our oldest kiddo so much and while I don't think I'll ever shake the mommy-guilt that I am screwing him up because he gets the brunt of my parenting fails, I keep on trusting Jesus to redeem us from our mistakes and to continue being bigger than my mess-ups.

Our newly minted 7-year-old is silly and sensitive and smart, energetic and eager to learn.  It's neat to see him now and to remember back to how he was as a toddler and a preschooler.  While he keeps getting bigger and more mature (although let's be honest, some days we're lacking in the maturity thing, can I get an "amen" from some other mommas of 7-year-old boys?), he's still that same kid.  Just in bigger clothes.  And with less teeth.

Creative, easily-frustrated, intelligent, impulsive, loving, sensitive.  Among so many other things.  I continue to learn a lot as his mom about how to parent the children God has given me, not the children I think I am supposed to have.  Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade this guy for anything...but I am too often guilty of getting impatient with the process of guiding and teaching my kids - him especially (that whole "you're the oldest kid so even though you're still just a little boy you're supposed to be perfect" mentality).  At the end of the day, after the kids have (finally) all fallen asleep, I often go stare at this oldest one for a bit.  As I look at him sleeping, I am frequently overcome with emotions.  Guilt - for having been too hard on him (again); Thankfulness - to God for entrusting me with such an amazing kid; Nostalgia - remembering those first few days as a new mom, knowing little to nothing about raising kids but feeling confident all the same because he was mine, and I was his.

 And ultimately, I feel pure love.  Love for a child who will always be my first baby, no matter how big he gets.