'Twas the Night Before Birthday

I must say, it's nice going back to work after a holiday weekend. Not because I live on routine or have a monotonous schedule, but because when I went to bed I could have swore it was Monday and when I woke up, Google told me it's Wednesday. I have no idea where Tuesday went, but I wish her well. Short weeks fly by so fast, I barely have time to form a complete sentence before it's over! Grrrr...

Have I mentioned I adore February?! Everything always seems so perfect in February. The weather this week has been especially phenomenal.

My baby, my blondie, my teeny girl, my jelly jam, my AGC turns four tomorrow. FOUR. This stirs a pot of emotions. I hope this is normal. I'm sad because she's my last baby and I'll never do it from scratch ever again. I'm one of those women. I adored being pregnant, I didn't even mind labor {why do you think I did it three times?!}. I liked the belly, I liked the endless eating, I liked the anticipation, I liked weighing over 100 pounds, I liked shopping for a new wardrobe, but I especially liked being kicked. It was like my own private symphony of movement; everyone else knew about it, but no one could feel it. Other moms think they know, but it's not the same and dads will never have a clue. There's just no way to put words together to make it make sense. I once allowed family to form que to put their hands on my belly while I reassured them that it wasn't gas {but honestly, who knows, especially when I'd just consumed four enchiladas, a churro, bottomless chips and salsa, and a mango smoothie.}

Simultaneously though, I'm thoroughly happy about it. She's my last! Woo hoo! She's two years potty trained, which means I'm saving $750 a year on diapers and I've been able to ditch the suitcase sized diaper bag for an actual handbag. She speaks in full sentences, most of the time without whining. She plays well with others, picks up her toys, minds her manners, makes her own bed, and finds my celly telly when I lose it. Most importantly, she sleeps through the night. Ahhh, it's great to be four! FOUR!

My only fear is that if four has come so quickly, fourteen is just around the corner and Mommy doesn't have a rifle to polish...

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