What a day.

Today is the last day of preschool in our house. Forever. (Unless God has a plan for us that hasn't been revealed yet). This week, I've been saying "have a great last Monday of third grade" to my son, or "have a great last Tuesday of the school year."

(On the first day of preschool)

And this morning, I said, "have a great last day of preschool." And then I turned around and cried as my dad drove away with her. On the way to school yesterday, SHE started crying. "I'm going to miss my friends and my teachers at preschool."

Ugh, we're a bunch of wussy babies!

(on the first day of the SECOND year of preschool. Darn that September birthday).

I have womb rage. I'm out of babies. And my children are growing up too fast. My son, gasp, is going to be a FOURTH GRADER. He's already making college plans. I'm not kidding, people.

And here's my baby, on her last day of preschool, getting ready to enter a whole new world of learning. She's ready. She's MORE than ready.

I'm not.

In other news, it's my daddy's 60th birthday today. In the last decade, my folks have been slammed up against walls like tornadoes were ripping through their lives. Lupus. Blood transfusions gone awry. Life support. Ambulances. Rehab. Surgeries. Inoperable CANCER.

Both have defied the odds. Both have outlived their life expectancy. And today, I celebrate my dad's life. He's been here with us one more year, and it's the start of ANOTHER year that we are GIFTED. What an awesome God we serve.