I stood in the self-checkout line at Target. There was an adorable, squishy baby sitting in the cart in front of me, an 18-month old it turns out. She was babbling and smiling and looking sparkly in that particular way that bald-headed babies have. She kept staring at me and I kept smiling at her. As her mom absent-mindedly handed her a veggie straw, I looked past this sweet baby, right at my own sweet baby. 

2009 (18 months) and now (14 years)

My 14-year-old stood in the background, shopping for bathing suit tops with her best friend. She picked up tops, showing them to Grace, who I've known since she was five. She giggled over the skimpy bathing suit bottoms, thankfully passing them over for the high-waisted briefs. I love her independence and the way she wants to go off on her own. 

But damn I miss the days when I could plop her in the front of a cart and pick out her cute little swim suits and hold her close. 

Parenting teenagers is hard. Harder than I expected. I'm a high school teacher; I get teenagers. But when they're your own, it's just different. I called my mom today to talk to her about a couple things I'm worried about and before I knew it, I was crying. I haven't cried to my mom about parenting since they were busy toddlers. 

Somehow, everything feels so Important right now. I've got four years left to impart the lessons and the values and the confidence and the relationships and the study habits and the self-reliance and the...

You see what I mean? I know that realistically Greg and I have been working on these things all along. Of course we have. But somehow it felt easier when they were underfoot all the time (if you are a parent of toddlers, I know that sentence makes you want to punch me in the face. I get it). Now, they spend hours (days) in their bedrooms. I have to bribe them to go get ice cream with me. They do their own laundry, make their own meals, and have whole lives apart from us. As they should.

I'm left cherishing the moments. Reminding myself to listen on the rare occasions they feel like blabbing (even if it's in the middle of the show I'm watching). I want to press pause because in six months they'll have their temps, and then their license and I know it's just going to be on warp speed from there. 

Luckily, I still have Justin. And the dog.