Happy Friday! It's birthday sleepover weekend.

Yesterday was Rachel's 11th birthday.

Are you ready for the cliché? Yeah? Time flies, people. It does.

 Rachel, age 6.

Age 11.

As Rach was helping me prepare our taco buffet for the family get-together last night, she asked me how I was feeling 11 years ago at that time. I told her that at about 4:30 the afternoon of the day she was born I was excited, scared, probably in a little bit of pain, and sad that my mama would miss the birth of my second baby because she was in Florida.

We had not found out the sex of either of our children before they were born, so I had no idea we were having a girl. And frankly, I had somehow convinced myself I was having another boy, so that's what I was prepared for. I was astounded - pleasantly surprised - when Rachel was born and the doctor told us our baby was a girl. A girl! A baby sister for Sammy! Even when I called my parents in Florida and told my mom the baby had arrived and we were both fine (praise Jesus, because that girl put me through the wringer before she made her appearance and I, in turn, put Steve and everyone else who was there through the wringer), I heard mom breathe that sigh of relief, and then ... "Mom, it's a girl" ... and I think my mom danced a jig right there on the other end of the line.

Ahhhh. I think we must never get tired of telling our "birth day" stories, do we? I remember some of the silliest details about the days my kids were born, but half the time I can't tell you what I had for breakfast this morning. Whether they realize it or not, much of my world revolves around the two of them. I wouldn't have it any other way.

And so, this afternoon I will pick Rachel and three of her friends up from school (Sam, poor dear, will ride the bus home and hang out with Grandpa), I will take this gaggle of girls to have manicures, we will eat pizza, and celebrate Rachel's Year of Eleven. Said celebration also involves a sleepover, so please pray for me!

Happy Friday.