Eleven Years

                  
On Sunday, my daughter turned 11. Eleven years. 574 weeks. 4,017 days. 96,408 hours. How can that even be?

I look at pictures of when she was younger and I am truly baffled by where the time has gone. She was a baby, then a toddler, then a little kid, then a big kid and now a young lady. She doesn't even seem KID-like anymore. Someone last month asked me if she was 14. Fourteen?!?!?! Geez!

She is as tall as I am. Her shoes are a size 7, sometimes she wears my flip flops. She wears a woman's size small. But she IS still a kid and she IS still my baby.

There are things that I miss about her being little. There are things that you take for granted when you are in the midst of raising little ones. I wonder when the last time I picked her up and carried her on my hip. The last time I kissed a boo-boo to make it all better. The last time I read her a story before bed.

I used to be sad when I thought about my kids growing up. Not anymore. It is a joy to watch her grow and learn and turn into the person that she will be. She is an awesome kid (when she's not being an a-hole at the Piggly Wiggly).

I am proud of her. She is smart, beautiful and kind. She is sensitive, creative and soooo funny! I enjoy being around her. I was genuinely concerned when she was born about how things would turn out. My husband and I were just two children playing house and we had a LOT of growing up to do and lessons to learn (Lord knows that we still do).

Somehow, things have turned out okay. More than okay, they've turned out pretty great. I might not be perfect, I might be the worst mom ever but I have dedicated my life to these girls. My husband and I both have.

Things are different now at 11. I've said it before, she is teetering between childhood and the teenage years. Some days she sits on my lap (which looks ridiculous) and asks me to buy her stuffed animals and the next she will scowl at me and spend the day with head phones stuck in her ears.

I am learning not to take it personally. To take advantage of the times she wants to be close, and respect her when she needs space.

She was clingy and sweet to me all last week but the pendulum swung last night. She was getting ready for bed and I went in to kiss her good night. I leaned in and kissed her fore head and said, "I love you, good night."

Do you know what her response was? "OK."

OK? What the hell does that mean? How about: I love you too. Good night mom! Nope, just ok. I closed the door behind me and tried to shrug off the sinking feeling in my chest. I walked past my 9 year old and said, "Hey, do you want to watch a show with me?"

"Don't talk to me!" She said before going into her bedroom.

Not her too! I climbed into bed next to my husband and sighed.

"Do you think we'll survive this?"
"Survive what?"
"The next 10 years."
"I hope."

I sighed. "Just think. In two years we will be parents of a teenager." He didn't say anything. We let the reality of that statement sent in. Our children are getting older and we're getting older too.