Growing Older

My daughter turns two today.  She is such a special joy in my life.

Well, both of my children bring lots of joy, and they certainly keep this old, weary parent on her toes.  They can be lots of trouble, too.

As you can imagine, I love both my son and my daughter more than life itself, but there is something about experiencing a toddler the second time around that just seems easier and perhaps even a little more joyful than the first time you experienced it.

I can’t explain it.

I wish I could.  And I almost wish that I didn’t feel that way because I feel that it’s not fair to my son.

But the truth is that I feel I’m more relaxed with my daughter than I ever was with my son.

With my son, I never felt as if I knew what I was doing.  I still don’t on most days.

I went from living in a world with all the time I needed to do something to a life in which someone needed me every minute of the day. 

It was not an easy transition for a 37-year-old woman who had never changed a diaper in her life.

I remember crying in the hospital because I was afraid that my husband could change diapers better than I.

When my daughter was born, I probably could have put on her diaper blindfolded.  It was a totally different story, and I had almost four years of parental experience.

Honestly, it is still not an easy transition as my son enters new stages because we enter uncharted territories where I still have no experience.  With him, I just want him to “grow” out of it a lot of times. 

This child keeps me on my toes.  And, truthfully, he's so much
like me with his interests, and stubborn ways. 

With her, it’s the opposite.  I savor the stage and sigh, “I wish she could stay little," as she runs to the corner to put herself in a time-out. 

I want to freeze time.

It’s hard to believe she’s two already.  I’m certainly not ready for her to grow older.   

That goes for me, too.  My 43^rd birthday is at the end of this year. 

I try not to think about my age that often as a mom to two young kids.  I feel the same age as my friends who had their first child at 30, but in reality I do have about seven years on them. 

When my baby is in kindergarten, I’ll be 46.  I’ll be one of the oldest parents.  I just hope I look as young as the others.  Got to have dreams, right?

Since having my children later in life, I’ve never wanted so badly to find that fountain of youth, not for vanity purposes, but because I want to keep on living.  I want to see my children grow up.  I want to be there for them throughout their lives. 

I guess my dream is no different from any one else’s because no one knows what life will bring any day.  We can only hope that we will live a long time to see our children grow into adults. My only issue is that I got started a little later than most. 

I want to be there for the first kiss, the prom, birthdays, graduations, weddings, and the births of my first and last grandchild, and all those in between.

I don’t want to miss a thing.   I also hope that they don't wait to have children as long as I did.  Thirty will be good, kids. 

Happy Birthday, my sweet Baby Diva!  I hope to share many, many more with you,  your brother, and dad.  

This is my first "Pour Your Heart Out" post with Shell at Things I Can't Say. Thanks, Shell, for causing me to dig into my emotions for this post. 

(If you are viewing this from the blog's homepage, and cannot find the comment tab, click on the title of the post and it will take you to the comments page. My comment link likes to disappear from time to time.  Also, don't forget about the giveaway for McDonald's coupons in North and South Carolina. Deadline to enter is Monday, November 14.)

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