When I was pregnant I couldn’t wait for my babies to get here. It seemed to take for-ev-er. Then they were born, life fast forwarded four and a half years, and now they’re so grown up. The little one just turned three, and now she’s a full-blown miniature person, leaving her babyhood in the dust.

She’s hitting huge milestones back to back, and I guess that’s why it feels like this chapter is done. We just gave her a “big girl bed,” and she’s so in love with it. She asks me to come look at it no fewer than ten times a day. I’m only mildly bittersweet about it, I say, tears streaming down my face.

Parenthood is this weird limbo. You’re stuck between wanting to keep them your babies forever, and wanting them to grow up and leave the nest sooner than later. Believe me, I’m absolutely DONE having babies, and needing to care and nurture one, but I’m not done holding onto them as if it was the first time.

I’m ecstatic they’re gaining more independence, doing more for themselves because that means I don’t have to do every single little thing for them, although most of the time that’s exactly how it feels. Baby steps, I guess.

So adios, diapers! Arrivederci, crib! Au revoir, babyhood! It was fun while it lasted, not to mention life-changing in every way imaginable.