It happened. Again.

April 13th happened again. The day I dread far more than my own birthday. Far. More.

I knew it was coming on Monday. We were around the table, having FHE. During the calendar/family announcement time, she stood up on her chair and stated: "As all of you know, Wednesday is my birthday. I'm turning nine. I would really, really, really appreciate breakfast in bed. That's all." And then she sat back down.

Now, that may come across as kind of bratty. But it really wasn't. She said it with such a plea in her voice that it was adorable.

She got the breakfast in bed.

And the rest of her day? She had a wonderful day in 3rd grade. I moped around the house. She squealed over her Texas Sheet Cake. Even though she knew she was getting it, just like every other year. I moped while I took this picture.

She bounced around at the movie theatre. I moped around the movie theatre. Yes, I know it's a school night. But it is just our thing. Shopping for her presents and a movie on her birthday. Not the day after, not the day before. On her birthday. Even though she has AIMS testing tomorrow. Even though she got to bed late. It's her BIRTHDAY.

Please forgive the horrible picture quality. I left my camera charging on the counter. All I had was my trusty 2 year old blackberry.

She carefully chose a new shirt. And a shiny necklace and bracelet to go with it. I nodded and smiled and paid. And all the while I was dying inside. Okay, I'm being drama. But sometimes I really do feel like I'm dying inside when I look at her. She is growing up, and someday she will leave me. And if that isn't going to make me die inside I don't know what is.

And of course we stopped at the requisite Build-A-Bear. I almost cried out loud because next year she will probably be too old. What will she want to do then? Go shopping for makeup? For shoes? I will die. Seriously. I. Will. Die.

She said she loved her birthday. We couldn't fit her actual party into the schedule until a week from Friday. So I did my best to make today awesome.

For her.

For me, it wasn't so awesome. My baby. My sweet little precious. NINE.

It's absolute baloney.