It's a weird, wild, beautiful, and bittersweet thing to watch your oldest child grow up. One day you'll be scrolling through pictures and you'll see one and think to yourself, "when did she get so old?!"
Taylor made a lot of new friends in junior high this year. I am so grateful they are cute, fun girls who seem to suit her well. Here they are after hiking the Y.
And then you'll be scrolling through the pictures on her iPod and come across something like this. A picture she's taken in class. And you know you didn't send her to school with her hair like that. And you know that she should probably doing something better in math class. But then you remember distinctly a moment very similar in your life when you were her age. And you giggle. And then you cry because it seemed like just yesterday you were in her shoes.
And then your perspective shifts and you look at her and she's simply not little anymore. And you wonder when this all happened. Like the time when you saw a large group of girls playing soccer from a distance. And I see a girl that looks like Taylor but I'm convinced it's not her because that girl is a full-grown woman. And you even tell your husband, "No way, that's not Taylor." But it is. And those moments just keep coming. One after the other. And it's wonderful and horrible and exciting and terrifying and sad and sweet. And you want to break down into ugly sobs, but you don't, because she has grown up to be such a great kid.
