So I now have a 10 year old. I’m not one of those women who struggles with her age. I don’t feel like I’m getting old, birthdays don’t send me into tears. The way I figure it, hovering on the edge of 40 just means that I’m really only getting started. I have a lot more havoc to cause.
However, my babies’ ages get to me. When my youngest sister turned 10 I cried, no more single digits for her. I’m serious, I literally cried. And this fall she got married. Time passes so fast. This is a picture of us at the reception, doesn’t she look beautiful?
Well, my son turned 10 on New Year’s Day. I didn’t cry, but I’ll admit that in the weeks leading up to it I did have a hard time saying 10. I told him that he would be 9+1. Every time I said it he’d roll his eyes. He finally asked me when I’d say 10 and I said when he turned 13 I’d say he was 10+3.
I love each age. I miss my son as a baby, but I’m pretty damn proud of the young man that’s he’s becoming.