With dreams of a day spent watching the Tigers crush the Red Sox spinning in his head and with his new jersey waiting on his pile of school clothes, this boy woke up yesterday and welcomed in the era of double digits.  In keeping with Vos tradition, he as birthday boy, got to choose to sleep wherever he wanted in the house and so I lay in bed listening to the rhythm of his soft snoring from the bed he’d created for himself using the patio cushions and a big pile of lovies and thinking of the last ten years.  I burrowed in with him the second he showed sign of waking and thanked him.  The minute God planted the seed, I said, it was you and I was me and then I was a mom.  You and He gave me that.  How can I ever thank you both?  Being a mom is one of my very favorite things and you taught me that first.  How great is this day?  How great are you, my brother and son?  Happy birthday.
Then there were chocolate chip pancakes tossed to his plate by his dad.  And there was a Club Lulu delivered by his baby sister along with a candy bar and a Tigers balloon.  And there were cousins celebrating with red velvet cake and Ripstiks amongst gale force winds while the moms kept shooing kids outside, we don’t care how cold it is, the house is clean.  Because we are leaving tomorrow and turning over care of the inmates to the best Nana and Papa in the world, but don’t get too comfortable because we’re coming back in three sleeps and there will be more stories to tell and more adventures to go on.  Until then there is this boy, now ten, keeping us all in stitches and reminding me of the grace of God in the form of small people.

This is me being real.  Thankful for my Grant.  Thankful for 10 years of parenting.  Thankful.


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