I so miss my little baby girls. I mean, I don’t love my grown up girls any less than I loved my baby girls, but I can’t help but feel sad when I think how that time in their lives is gone forever.
I miss helping put on their shoes and arguing about having another cookie. I want to be able to pick them up and toss them up in the air to make them squeal like I used to do. I even miss cleaning up their messes . . . . . Actually, I don’t have to miss cleaning up their messes very much, they are sixteen and eighteen and I’m still cleaning up their messes.
But then we will spend time with a friend or family member who has young children. I get dizzy watching them chase their children around trying to keep them from getting into, getting on, swallowing, and breaking things. I can’t imagine how I ever had the energy to make it through this age with my own two children.
It leaves me with an odd combination of both sadness and relief…