I often notice how tall my girls are getting, or how they are able to do things they couldn’t do before. But today was a big day here. Annalise, who came to us at age 2 years, 2 days, got a big girl bed today. We carried her home two blocks today, from Mr. Wonderful’s mom’s house, but how much longer will she cling to us like a little monkey?
I am actually sick over this tonight; the constant marching of time. Slow down a little bit, won’t you? I work so much, and I feel like I don’t even know these two little humans, one of whom is so close to being able to read. The other, for the first time this morning, came to me and made herself ready to have her hair done. (She has a hard time predicting what will happen next.)
Do any other moms or dads (grandmas or grandpas) have this problem? The one where they are physically ill at the thought of these precious beings growing up and eventually out of your home?
God help me. I’m so emotional over this.