On Having a Ten Year Old

So yes, Alyssa turned ten yesterday. It was a lovely day for her. I’d made cupcakes on Sunday and Tom took them to her class yesterday. He went one step further and picked up juice boxes to take too. He’s an awesome Mr. Mom. Or rather, he’s a pretty awesome dad.

As I watched my big girl blow out her candles last night, I realized that I’m not one of those people who look at their suddenly big kids and wonder where the time went. You won’t hear me lamenting, “How is it that my baaaybeeee is ten years old? How can *I* have a ten year old?”

No, I feel like we’ve earned these ten years. Yes, they’ve flown by but I also feel like I’ve been present for each and every day of the past ten years. Alyssa has learned and grown and matured and made awesome friends and done well in school and had her tonsils out and I’ve been there for each of those things.

I realize that sometimes, people say things like “Where have the years gone?” partly because they think they’re supposed to say that. But I don’t feel that way.

And I’m certainly not surprised to find myself the mother of a ten year old. I mean, come on. I was 32 when she was born. I’m plenty old enough to have a ten year old. Hell, I’m old enough to have a 20 year old.

Olivia has asked several times, “Is Lyssie going to be ten forever?”

Obviously, we’ve made a big deal out of Alyssa turning ten. I mean, come on, it’s double digits, baby!

I always reply that no, Alyssa won’t be ten forever, she’ll just be ten for a year. But then I remember that to a six year old, a year can feel like forever.

Then again, to a tired mom with a child who go back to sleep, the hours between 1am and 4am can feel like forever.

All in all, I’m pretty excited to have a ten year old and I can tell you, she’s just as excited, if not more so, to be ten.