Tonight was the last night my baby went to sleep as an eight-year old. I got a little teary-eyed and quickly raced through all her birthdays in my head. It could not have been nine already, could it? I even panicked a bit. I am never getting the years back. I am never getting the days back. I am never getting the hours, the minutes, the seconds. I am never getting them back. Have I used them wisely, I wondered.
The answer to my question is probably yes and no. I have wasted a lot of time by nagging, by being pre-occupied, by focusing on small stuff and missing the big events, such as a hug or a confession. I have been tired too many times, under pressure too many times, irritated too many times, selfish too many times, impatient too many times.
But I can also say that I have been there. I have savored her life. I have laughed with her, painted with her, baked with her, read with her. We have years worth of cuddle time. I have been there for my little girl who is growing up. I think that she will remember all those times better than the times when I lost my temper. At least I hope so.
Happy birthday, big, little Kristin.