Time Has Passed & It's Almost Time Again.. (Picture-filled post!)

Now you are probably sitting here, reading that title and wondering, "what in the world is this chick talking about with this wacky riddle?!".

On November 18th, my oldest of the three kids had turned twelve years old. Yes, she is one more year closer to the dreaded tag known as "teenager". All in all though, with her maturity level (both mentally, as well as physically) she is more like a fourteen year old.

I'm thirty-five. She is twelve. I am 100 pounds on the nose. She last weighed in at 98. I am five feet tall. She is too. I don't have a set of "boobage". She does.

Basically, if you were to ask her thoughts about all this "you're as tall as your Mama" talk, that may just be what she would do to me after snickering. Like she did in the doctor's office when he asked how old I was, when discussing reading glasses.

As for the second part of the answer to my awesome riddle-title...

The youngest of the three "angels" of mine will be turning seven years old on Monday. Hard to believe. Already, seven years have just up and flown past like a speeding NASCAR racer doing 250 on the inside stretch.

In many ways she is taking after her big sister. She looks up to her (especially being that Big Sissy is about a foot and a half or so taller than her lol) and severely misses her when my oldest has to go on bi-weekly visits with her biological father.

Both of my girls have shown me (albeit the hard way) just what all it had taken my parents to raise me. Raging hormones, attitudes, "Princess-tude".

And thank God, the oldest (who now wears makeup), puts it on and still looks natural, but accentuates her features. Especially those beautiful blue eyes of her's.

At the end of the day, no matter how old they get, and no matter how tall they grow, they will ALWAYS be the apple of their Daddy's eye. My husband may not be my oldest's biological father with not a shred of DNA shared between them, but she is HIS, and he will tell you that to your face.

The little one is so wrapped around her Dad's finger, it's not funny. Okay. It is. But geez! And I thought that I got away with "murder" as a kid. Wrong. I kind of wish I could do that "Freaky Friday" thing and trade places with her for about 24 hours and enjoy some of the (tons of) freedom that she gets.

This past Summer's trip to Richmond has been one of the best I think that we have enjoyed as a family. And now, with all three of my kids growing up, and inching ever so much closer to being teens and "big kids", I find myself reflecting more on the Summers past, when the kids were so innocent, that it never seemed like we as parents would have to deal with more than scraped knees and the occasional "she/he took my toy".

To those of you with "young" (as in under the age of eight years old), take my advice and heed it well. Cherish EVERY single moment with your child(ren). Relish in each hug and kiss (yes, even the open-mouthed baby ones!). Enjoy the fanciness of every tea party and doll playtime.

The young years fly by faster than a Santa Ana wind.