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27

Yesterday, I turned 27.

As the years have come and gone I've realized that I have this fear of growing older. It's not the getting old in years, or the unavoidable death that comes with age that scares me though. It's the "living life without doing anything with it" that scares me. I had a conversation with my "sisters" this morning, about how: this is it. We do not get do overs, and we can not get any of that time back. Once it's gone...it's gone. And currently, I've been feeling as if I've done absolutely nothing with my time. 

I know that being a mother is a blessing, and it is (and will always be) my greatest achievement. But I always knew that I would be a mother. I knew that this was something I wanted for my life, and I could not have been happier on the day that this dream became a reality. But now what? What is next for me? School? I'm doing that. A good job? I have one. A home? Yup, I have that too. And these are all really great things! I know this. I know that I am so lucky to have the opportunity to pursue these goals, and to have these securities. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm being an awful person for not being content with what I already have: good health, a loving family, simple life, a beautiful & healthy daughter. And it's not that I'm NOT content with that. I know how blessed I am to have these things. But I also feel like I should be doing more. I should be aiming to accomplish more. I know that I CAN do more. And yet, I'm always in fear of pushing too far. I fear that I'm wanting too much. That I'm being too selfish. Too greedy. I'm scared that all of these dreams will always be just that: dreams.

Back in March, I touched on some of the things I hoped to do one day. Since then the list has expanded. But I'm no closer now to crossing any of those things off of my list than I was on the day I started it. And now, the goals have spread out to more than just travelling. I want to conquer a fear. I want to live in another country for a year. I want to change my eating habits for GOOD. I want to become a morning person. I want to be comfortable in my own skin. I want to change someone's life. I want to be positive, and bring a good energy to people. I want to be at peace with myself. With my life, with my choices. I want the happiness I see in my daughters eyes when she finally coaxes a snail from it's shell. The excitement shines through her in rays, and I can't help but hope that one day I'll get that excited about something again. You know? I want to be good, and feel good about what I'm doing. The years are coming and going, faster now it seems, and I have this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I'm running out of time. Every year that I don't do or try something new is a waste. And worst of all I feel like I'm failing.

I understand that this all has to be set in motion by me. No one else out there can start the changes or start working towards these goals because they're mine alone to achieve. And there has to be something inside of me that lights that fire. At 27, I think I'm finally ready to take the initiative and find out just what that is. This is my year I think. I can feel it in pretty much every part of me, that I'm done being still. So, here's to 27! May it be filled with new adventures, new accomplishments, and a huge freakin' fire being lit under my ass. Because this is it.

Preschool

Yesterday was Emery's first day of preschool. I woke up at 5:30 am, and just held on to her as tightly as I could without waking her. I stared at her little features; those cheeks and the button nose. I gently counted her little fingers and toes. I watched as she made some of the same faces in her sleep as she did when she was a baby. God, I wanted to stay in that moment forever.  To me, this is the true beginning of change. It's also the reality that my daughter is really growing up. Now I'm not a crazy person that truly believes her daughter would stay little forever. That's not what I'm really mourning (at least I don't think it is). What is really hitting me is that all of those little moments and milestones have come and gone. There is no more going back, and we're about to hit the ground running. Full speed ahead. You see, when she was three months I was comforted by knowing that she would still be in that "baby state" for a few more months at the least. I'd get to enjoy it longer. Now, she's changing and growing in so many different ways...daily. She's losing those baby features too. And of course children always need their parents, but I had to ask her twice to let me get her dressed for school. To which she replied "Ugh. Mooom. I can do it by myself." Well, I know you can kid, but just let mom do it one last time. FYI: She did!  So there I was, having an itty bitty pity party for myself when I whispered "It's your first day of school, little." She sprang up from bed with a "MOM! It's my first day of school! I have to get dressed! We can't be late mom!! Hurry!" I don't think I've ever had such a quick morning in my life. She brushed her teeth, found her shoes, and had her back pack ready to go well before it was time to leave. She grabbed the keys, and all but shoved me out the door. When we arrived at her school we had about 10 minutes before early care started. So, I went over how she needed to be nice to the other kids. Tackling someone just to sit on them was a no-no. Listen to the teachers. Try not to be rude. Please let an adult know if you need to go potty. etc, etc. As we walked in, she greeted everyone with a "Good morning!" or a "Hello!" I turned in her completed admissions paper work, and walked with her to the early care room. I said goodbye, and she gave me a kiss. As I walked away she said "Love you, mom." I made it to the parking lot before shedding some tears. 

Since my father doesn't work during the week he'll be the one to pick her up on the days she has school. But it being her first day and all I decided to meet him there to show him how to sign her out. I also wanted to see how her first day had gone. Once we arrived I was  informed by one of her teachers that there were a few tears in early care after I had left. Is it completely horrible that I was a teeny tiny bit glad about this? But they quickly dissipated once she was taken into her regular room (the one she spent time in at the teacher meet/greet). I was told she did really well, and was very interactive with all of the other kids. When I asked her about her day she quickly told me about the crying. Then just as quickly she stated she would not cry the next time because it wasn't so bad. She had plenty of stories to share and let me know that she made friends. This is completely bittersweet to me. I am so proud of her, and I cannot wait to see how much she accomplishes and learns this year. Getting to see my little girl grow, and learn is a really amazing experience! It's a blessing that I'm thankful for each and every day. And yet, I can't help but feel this small tug on my heart that's reminding me: This is it. This is the first and last time that she'll be just like this. Tomorrow she'll be a little bit more different. I wish I could prolong it. I wish I could pause it just for a few moments. Or bottle it up to carry it with me always. However, since that's out of the question, I'll just have to learn to pay extra close attention. I'll have to make sure that I don't miss a single thing as Emery embarks on her new adventure.