It's been eight years...

The day came. Then it went. It was sad. I might have shed a tear that night when the adrenaline stopped rushing through my veins. Hey, I said might have, not did. Anyways, my baby is eight, and well, not a baby anymore. She started her day playing a softball tournament, in which her team so deservingly took 3rd, and then that night we celebrated with a slip'n'slidin' mudfest, hot dog grillin', not-for-the-insulin-dependent cupcake cake, good ole' country birthday bash! And she loved every second of it.

PS: You might be a redneck if your slip'n'slide is placed strategically in front of a steer's pen, the dog keeps attacking the sliders (playfully of course), your 3-year-old is the bully of the party with all her punching and spitting, and each and every punk ends up covered in a nice layer of muddy wetness! Oh my, oh my. We are country! No doubt.

Here's my birthday girl (I didn't say baby alright?) with her crazy friends...

Some more of the little nerds...

Can't forget the little siblings...these girls are gonna be T-R-O-U-B-L-E one day...

***Please note the mud on his legs***

Sorry to the mother of this poor child. At least the steer didn't get out though. Right?

Here's my nephew. He's about to be 12. He's a super stud. He was politely telling me to buzz off.

And last, here's a pair that'll always make my day. No matter what. They are the upside down of my frown. No lie. **Please note the blood dripping down Pawpaw's arm. He's a hard-workin' old man I tell ya. Doesn't even realize he's coming to his great-granddaughter's birthday party with blood all over his arm. I'm sure that blood is the product of a long day in the garden at 78 years old! I see now where my hubby gets his strength.**

I think I'll give my hubby some extra lovin' tonight for being so strong. I hope one day we're that old couple with pastel plaid shirts and bloody arms. That's true love people.

Happy birthday not-so-baby-anymore 8-year-old! We love you! And all of your quirky weirdness.

Momma