The blues hit me today. My girls are all grown up and I am merely an alarm that wakes them in the morning. They get themselves ready, put in their contacts, fix their hair (but I sometimes intervene anyway), pack their lunches, do the dishes, clean the bathrooms and their bedrooms. They still need me, but they are very self sufficient in many ways. Sniff, sniff.
The blues hit me today when I looked at this photo. Probably one of my all-time favorites. I actually teared up. Darby was in second grade and still refused to wear her glasses all the time. Roxy was three and was learning how to get candy from every living human being by showing them those cute puppy-dog eyes and being impossibly sweet. AND they let me dress them in coordinating outfits. They were not perfect children, but they were completely, wholly unique, fascinating, and mine. They needed me 24/7.
Maybe this is all just a precursor to the new reality: I am 40 and am about to be the parent of a thirteen year old daughter whose mind goes so far beyond my expectations and whose intellect and love for words still blows me away. She actually scares me sometimes. And she is so beautiful too. The other reality: my baby will be turning 10 this year. To this day, every photo I see of her, I see her as a baby. My baby, who can make us laugh when she uses her sarcasm, her goofy faces, her infectious laugh. And she is so beautiful too.
I want to freeze this new reality and keep it forever. Or, at least I don't want to mess it up. Here's hoping that in another six years, I will see the same things in that picture.