I feel like I amass any wisdom I posess from Internet memes.
...And the Bible.
But sometimes the memes are just on point. Like the one that said “don’t complain about getting older—it’s a privilege denied to many.”
Right?? I want to rejoice that Sarah is getting older. Many parents don’t get to experience that.
But I’m not sure how long I can get away with still calling her “baby.” Her actions and attitude scream TODDLER. Loudly. But I suppose my parents didn’t follow the conventional rules either—I’m still known as “baby” around the Troutman household—which is fine if you’re family (or if you’re familiar with Dirty Dancing) but I’m sure it can seem odd—especially if your mother isn’t too familiar with social media and confuses personal messages with posts on your wall. For example “hey baby. when you come out next week will you remember to bring that cooler with you? love, mom.”
My husband just informed me that I’m going to be 30 this year. This came as quite as a shock. Seriously, we just had a 5 minute argument I MEAN conversation about it. I was under the impression that I was 28, and I would turn 29 on my birthday in July. Alas, he is better at math than me and explained that if I was born in 1986, the big 3-0 is definitely happening this year*.
But I digress.
I want to delight in the fact that Sarah is growing, learning, and eating more than a full grown man. I absolutely reject the idea that a child growing up is reason for sadness. It’s a cause for celebration in my opinion. I want to rejoice in her milestones, not be depressed about something that I cannot change.
Even when I find my iPhone in the dryer.
Even when the baby shoes turn up in the refrigerator.
Especially when she learned to stall bedtime by requesting extra kisses and hugs.
Sarah is growing up. We all are. This year she’ll turn two and I'll be 30. But I refuse to be sad about either one of those facts. We’re both changing. But guess what? It means we’re alive. And last time I checked, that is a good thing. And no matter what, she’ll always be our baby.
*if you’ve never been confused about your own age, I’m going to go out on a limb and say you’ve never been pregnant.
...And the Bible.
But sometimes the memes are just on point. Like the one that said “don’t complain about getting older—it’s a privilege denied to many.”
Right?? I want to rejoice that Sarah is getting older. Many parents don’t get to experience that.
But I’m not sure how long I can get away with still calling her “baby.” Her actions and attitude scream TODDLER. Loudly. But I suppose my parents didn’t follow the conventional rules either—I’m still known as “baby” around the Troutman household—which is fine if you’re family (or if you’re familiar with Dirty Dancing) but I’m sure it can seem odd—especially if your mother isn’t too familiar with social media and confuses personal messages with posts on your wall. For example “hey baby. when you come out next week will you remember to bring that cooler with you? love, mom.”
My husband just informed me that I’m going to be 30 this year. This came as quite as a shock. Seriously, we just had a 5 minute argument I MEAN conversation about it. I was under the impression that I was 28, and I would turn 29 on my birthday in July. Alas, he is better at math than me and explained that if I was born in 1986, the big 3-0 is definitely happening this year*.
But I digress.
I want to delight in the fact that Sarah is growing, learning, and eating more than a full grown man. I absolutely reject the idea that a child growing up is reason for sadness. It’s a cause for celebration in my opinion. I want to rejoice in her milestones, not be depressed about something that I cannot change.
Even when I find my iPhone in the dryer.
Even when the baby shoes turn up in the refrigerator.
Especially when she learned to stall bedtime by requesting extra kisses and hugs.
Sarah is growing up. We all are. This year she’ll turn two and I'll be 30. But I refuse to be sad about either one of those facts. We’re both changing. But guess what? It means we’re alive. And last time I checked, that is a good thing. And no matter what, she’ll always be our baby.
*if you’ve never been confused about your own age, I’m going to go out on a limb and say you’ve never been pregnant.
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