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.
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