This picture of my dad, my grandmother, my firstborn, and I was taken ten years ago.
Ten years ago today I was hanging out in the hospital for this future Big Helper’s birth.
When you have a baby, everyone tells you to make the most of it because the time will fly.
They’re wrong.
‘Flying time’ doesn’t begin to explain how very fast the years will disappear.
While some days – some phases – seem neverending, it seems that you miss whole years when you blink a single time.
And so today that’s where I sit – lost in wonder at this big girl, this tween, this girl on the threshold of growing up. She’s grown and changed more in the past few months than I’ve seen in the past several years, and while these changes have always been expected, I never realized how quickly they would come.
It hit me the other day that we’re more than halfway through this parenting-of-kid-under-roof thing. She’s already lived here for ten years and has only eight left. Eight years of becoming an adult. Ten years with the easy lessons of walking and talking and learning to read already gone and eight mature, weighty years left.
I don’t feel old until I consider that.
I’m quite sure that I’m not ready to be the parent of a tween or a teen or an adult. I’m glad that there’s a little time before all of that becomes official, but this birthday has been very hard for me.
My Big Helper is turning into an amazing girl. She’s kind and helpful (obviously), complimentary and very hard working. She’s tenacious and not afraid of trying new things, and I love spending time with her. I’ve loved the past 9 weeks of bee school and the time that we’ve gotten to spend together.
Just as bee school is ending, however, so also is childhood – but maybe not yet.
Maybe we can still paint and play and bake together.
After all, it’s only double digits.
