Blade

Today is Blade's ninth birthday.  It's also the 12th anniversary of the worst day of my life, the day my Mom was tragically killed in a car accident.  You'll be happy to know that since Blade's birth 9 years ago, I no longer spend February 1st wallowing in self pity and moping around.  Nope, now it's all about Blade. And I think that's exactly how my Mom would've wanted it.  Thank goodness for Blade. 

Besides who could be blue with this guy around?

Dear Blade,
    You're not so much into the gushing and overly sentimental rantings of your mother so I'll try to keep the gag factor low to medium.....or not.  I'm the mom I can do what I want. 
    So you're nine today and think you're kind of a big deal.  Just last night you asked your Daddy to please get up and get the remote for you even though you were a good 6 feet closer to it, because after all "it's your BIRTHDAY WEEK!"  Oh dear, you know what they say, "like mother father like son."  ;)  And you said that serious as could be with eyes twinkling and trying to supress  a smile, so of course all we could do was laugh and get you the remote.  You know how to work us and everyone else, my child.  Those big brown eyes?  WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION.  You will use those bad boys to manipulate, charm, and finagle to get your way or way out of anything. 
    Your 8th year of life was a big one for you.  You expanded your sports horizons and started wrestling and also played your first season of TACKLE football.  You are so competitive and intense and take it so hard when you lose, which isn't that often.  But when you do and your eyes get misty and you're biting your lip trying not to cry because you are so mad about losing, my heart breaks into a million tiny pieces.  This whole being a sports mom may be the death of me.  But I so love it and will always be your biggest (and loudest) fan.  Like it or not.  And yes, lesson learned about sending you to football camp wearing your "My Mom Rocks" shirt.   
    Besides playing football, soccer and wearing leotards wrestling, you love to be outside doing farm boy stuff, like raking hay or climbing trees or your latest accomplishment, climbing through a raccoon infested culvert that runs from our pond, under the road, to the field across the road.  Please note that you did not do that last one with the expressed permission of your parents and you'd better never do it again.  But that's the kind of kid you are, not afraid of anything and always looking for adventure.  After all, you were the one who rode your bike down a 10 ft tall twisty slide at the park when you were 3.  You are also passionate about sports and will spend entire Saturdays and Sunday afternoons in the fall watching one football game after another and discussing rankings, players, and stats with your Daddy.  When you're not watching it, you're outside (even if it's 5 degrees and snowing) throwing a football around with your brother and Daddy or shooting hoops.  There is no doubt that you are 110% boy. 
     You also love your dog, Dexter the pug boundlessly.  When Santa brought him to you last Christmas, I wondered how long it would take for the novelty to wear off and for you to tire of him.  But here we are 14 months later and you love that dog more every second.  He follows you everywhere and looks longingly out the window and whines when you get on the bus for school every morning.  There should probably be a Disney movie made about you two. 
     You are one in a million and I often times forget that you're only 8 9.  Since you were a baby you've seemed wise beyond your years.  You're quick witted and funny, always catching us off guard with your one liners or retorts.  You are straight up ornery and just by looking at those sparkling brown eyes I can see the mischief brewing behind them.  And you're particular...about everything from music to cleaning your room to which shirt (but apparently NOT what underwear) you wear to school.  You have opinions on them all.  Which is odd considering neither your father or I are very opinionated about anything. Ha!  When you're mad you're MAD and you will inevitably cross your arms in front of your chest and glare at the world defiantly, daring anyone to make you crack a smile because that is so NOT happening.  Those are fun times, and by fun times I mean they make me want to scream and put up an ad on Craig's List to find you a new home. :)  Luckily, those times are rare and it's more common to find you happy and when you're happy LIFE IS GRAND.  You laugh, you hug, you joke, you hold our hands, you say sweet things, and tighten the already impenetrable grip you have on our hearts.
         I could list a million more things that I love about you but someone...ahem has demanded that I make a Pineapple Upside Down Cake for his birthday so I'd better quit writing and get to baking.  Just know this, my boy, that I love you more than life itself, and that you helped heal a broken part of my heart when you came to us exactly 3 years to the day after your Grandma Leslie died.  I can't imagine life without you.  I would prefer if you'd live with me forever but you've got big dreams little boy, and I know that with your tenacity and fervor for life you'll accomplish whatever you set your mind to do.  I also know that you have a special place in your heart for your Mommy (and Daddy) and assure me that you'll never outgrow that. You also promised me your first Superbowl ring.  I'm holding you to both of those promises.  And I promise you that we'll always love you and be on your side.  I'm so proud to call you my son. 
Happy Birthday Buddy! 

P.S.  Could you be any cuter?!?  Seriously.