And my whole world, it begins and ends with you

"So when you drive As the years go flying by I hope you smile If I ever cross your mind It was the pleasure of my life And I cherished every time And my whole world Begins and ends with you." This weeks post isn't done. I would apologize, but to be honest, I'm not really sorry. I don't say that to be offensive, because I've really started to enjoy writing again, but I did spend the week doing far more important things, and I think you all would agree. My baby boy turned four on Friday. Here it comes, the cliche, where did the time go? I don't know. No one ever knows. I feel like I spent my whole life waiting to grow up, and then I did and now someone hit the fast forward button and I'm scrambling to find a way to make it stop. I had a really hard time with this birthday. Don't get me wrong - I always get weepy on his birthday, but this year it was much much worse. I don't know why - maybe because my mind always jumps to the next year and next year he's going to be five, and that just seems like such a BIG DEAL, doesn't it? Five is just the start to so many big things - like all day school and just. Man. Five. Four years ago today, I was in a hospital room. Scared, in pain, but also in love, cuddling a new baby and taking an obscene amount of photos. Four years isn't that long of a time, really, until you're talking about YOUR baby. But then you also think... He's only been here for four years?? What was my life like before him? I can't remember. Maybe it's because I don't want too. Oh, I don't want to be one of those mom's who claims everything is perfect. My son hits and gets frustrated far too easy. He writes on the wall. He doesn't listen. He's still not a great sleeper, even four years later. But, he's my heart and soul and you don't ever want to imagine what it's like living without that. He has the ability to make me laugh even when I'm incredibly angry. He and his brother are the only two I willingly wake in the mornings for, even if I've only fallen asleep a few hours before. And, as frustrating as he can be, he loves me. I know he loves me. He can kick me, yell at me, give me attitude, and tell me he doesn't love me - but who's the first person he calls when he's scared? When he's hurt? When he needs someone, he calls on me, because he knows I'll be there, and he knows he can trust me to keep him safe and make him feel better. I know some people don't like it when people go on and on about their kids, but I don't care. They're my life, they're my world, they're my passion, they're my reason. Some people might find that boring or pathetic, and that's OK. We can like different things. But I do think I'm incredibly lucky to have been blessed with two such amazing little boys. I love them both more than anything.