Maybe . . .

This picture is from several years ago. I miss these moments. Wait, they're still happening. S. still makes colossal messes on a regular basis. She's just less cute than she used to be about it.

The thing is, I keep thinking about the fact that we only have her. I have a deep sense of regret about that. She is the sun and the moon and the stars to us - that is the truth. But the worry is excruciating. Are we doing enough for her. Will she get hurt. Will she get sick. The worry is constant. And I know that that happens no-matter how many kids you have. But would it be easier to let her "fly" if we had more children? I don't know the answer to that.

S. is away at a sleepover party tonight. And I feel the need to tell you that I'm scared. I'm scared she will get hurt. Or do something silly that will hurt her. That she will eat too much junk food and get sick. That the other girls will play mean tricks on each other and she won't understand, or get her feelings hurt. I know she is in a safe home. She has good sense - or as much good sense as any nine year old. She is a good girl. She doesn't curse, she thinks of others, she is a tender soul.

I'm just going to suck it up and be a big girl. But I don't think it gets easier the older she gets. And here is where my mom is saying, "I told you so." And here is where I say, in the quietest, most sincere way I can to my parents, "I'm sorry. You were so right."