four=big

My baby, my firstborn turns four today. I almost can’t remember life BC (before children), but four years old screams “BIG.”

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Whether it be watching through the window since she can now play by herself outside, or really being perplexed by the thoughtfulness of the things she says, I’m so aware that she’s really becoming her own person with her own likes and opinions (which are sometimes opposite of mine). Her own fiery, independent, yet loves-to-be -around-people person.

Today, I’m a little sad that happiness won’t always be as simple as a pretty dress and twirling and a ‘4’ candle. That my days won’t always be filled with playdates and popsicles, books and make believe. That she won’t always request macaroni and cheese for her birthday supper.

No one told me that a child could be so willful (well, my dad may have), so clever, and so determined. No one told me I would cry and laugh so much, that I could be so lonely, yet so full of love, in a house with small children who don’t understand the importance of coffee and talking about things that matter. How much I’d wish it to be naptime, only to wish for bedtime, yet I’d miss them only a few ┬áminutes after they fall asleep. That I’d wonder who I was and know exactly who I am, all at the same time, simply by becoming a mom.

Sometimes, I can’t wait until the next milestone. More often, I want to freeze time. ┬áBut praise God, both of my babies are healthy and growing … as they should. They’re learning and exploring and changing, and I have to remind myself what a gift that is.

Happy rainbow, glittery-purple-unicorn Birthday, Baby Girl!

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