It goes so fast . . .

My oldest, Flower, is 10. She will be 11 in September.

She loves to play with her American Girl dolls. She loves to do art. She loves to make "plays." She loves to play on the playset, ride bikes, swim. She loves to read.

In a lot of ways, she acts "younger" than some of her peers. (Which is just fine with me, by the way.)

But in other ways, I see the "older" her peeking out. She asks big questions about big subjects. She wants to spend less time with the younger kids. She worries about things that little kids don't.

I am trying to look at her growing up as part of life - her life, my life, just life.

But I just don't feel prepared. I remember being 11, 12, 13.

And I also remember when she was a baby. It feels like it was just a couple years ago. It doesn't help that she was the child that I didn't appreciate her babyhood either. For me, I was always looking towards the next milestone instead of savoring them.

And as difficult as it was to deal with nursing problems, potty training problems, playground problems, I just feel more equipped to handle those kind of problems.

And now that those problems are gone, I find myself almost wanting those times back. I don't want to deal with girlfriend problems, boyfriend problems, not wanting to talk to your mother problems.

We were on vacation a couple of weeks ago and she was swimming in the lake with her sister and brother. And I sat there wondering if this summer was going to be the last one like this. The last one that she would just go on vacation and play with her siblings. Next year, it may not be as "cool." And the year after that, she will have church girls camp for a week in June. And just more and more things that will keep her busy as the years go by.

I'm babbling, for sure. There is no little quip that is going to wrap this blog post.

And I've got to go anyway. She has set the table for lunch . . . .