My Bucket is 8.

There's nothing in this world to make you feel old like your child's birthday. Am I right? Especially when you look at them and can barely remember what they looked like as a baby. Today marks the day I became a mother 8 short years ago. Who knew what a sweet boy that not so little ten pound, four ounce, screaming-all-the-time-baby would grow up to be?

While he came into this world with an abnormally large body, a squished neck on one side, bulging on the other, with no chin, and the loudest scream you can imagine... he has become the most adorable, kindest, giving, think outside of the box, kid. And I am proud to call him my son.

In my mind, he stopped aging at 6. But when we have our heart to heart chats, his reasoning and ability to fathom concepts is well beyond his 8 years. We went for a walk yesterday and he stopped at every blown over garbage can and picked them up for our neighbors. After wrestling with a little boy in the neighborhood yesterday, you could see the look of devastation on his face when the boy accidentally got hurt. He didn't even have to be asked to apologize as he rushed to see if the child was okay. Earlier, Declan was trying to climb the stairs to the slide and Spencer just scooped him up, carried him up the play structure and took him down the slide without even being asked. I am so proud of the kind, helpful, giant hearted kid he is and the man that I know he will grow up to be. He's going to make big waves in this world. Big waves.

An hour old:

8 years later: