It’s the end of September again; cue Eli’s freak out about his daughter turning a year older. It’s the same thing every Fall. I start sleeping worse, I eat more junk food than usual (if you can imagine), I get this twitch in my eye, and clumps of hair start leaping from my scalp at random intervals throughout the day. There is something so awful about another year passing in my little girl’s life. I don’t know which is worse: getting farther away from her first steps, or getting closer to her first driving experience. Or maybe what’s most depressing is that I’ll still be in school when she starts, and every year she gets closer to starting.
At least during Avey’s fifth year of life, we will be blessed with another new life to nourish and witness. While I am ecstatic about that, I don’t know if I can start going through this emotional turmoil twice a year. And what may be most difficult is being reminded of Avey’s little beautiful moments that we’ll never get back while Newbaby goes through his or her own. The life of a parent is full of so many brief glimpses into innocence and purity, and it is so difficult to be reminded that the source will someday forget what things once were like.
For what it’s worth, I am also a teensy bit excited that Avey will get to try out being four. She’ll get to experience the joys of reading by herself, she’s already forged into the mysteries of having a “big girl bed”, she’ll soon learn the wonders of basic math, and she’ll feel the responsibility of being an older sibling.
At least one thing’s (almost) for sure; she’ll still enjoy giving me hugs for another year. And the countdown begins again…