Sometimes I think I pretend it’s not happening . . . but it is.
My girls are growing up and to be quite honest, I don’t know where the time went.
I swear I was just breastfeeding one and teaching another how to ride her bike without training wheels.
Where did my little girl who liked to stomp in rainy day puddles and get mud all over her go?
Where did my little girl who loved looking for toads go?
Other moms warned me.
They did, and they didn’t sugarcoat.
So, I shouldn’t be this shocked or act this surprised when I catch a glimpse of an old photo.
But the shock stares me down face to face, and it doesn’t let go.
Shock sets in.
Sadness fills up my heart a bit and parts of me want to rush back to those times and relive them.
But other moms warned me.
The warning would come almost every time I walked into Target, a restaurant, and at the swings at the town playground. Moms would see me from far away, with four girls trailing behind and next to me, like a little gaggle of ducklings, and immediately begin their descent to talk with me.