it's my birthday and i'll cry if i want to

Eight is...just another year older.

The exhaustion of our life and her birthday caught up with her this afternoon and apparently being one day into your ninth year doesn't mean you are any better equipped to manage emotions.

Tomorrow she will come home from school, relax, and enjoy her birthday loot.

But before the crash, we partied. Texas Roadhouse (she is half texan, you know) with grandparents, aunt, uncle and cousins was her wish. She drank soda, line danced and saddled-up for a birthday yee-haw. It is pretty cool to be her mother and watch her grow up...even if it is going a little too fast.

Ripp has decided that Texas Roadhouse might be his favorite new food joint (and not just because he IS texan, you know). Even when George Strait's, Amarillo by Morning, admittedly makes him homesick. With a whisper in my ear and a sad look on his face, I can tell he is serious. He seems to remind me more often that we will be living out our retirement days in Texas. With our eight year old only a decade away from college, he'll be back home before he knows it.