4

My baby turned 4 last week.

You know how some people refer to their children as the baby but they're not really the baby?

Well, Princess is truly and officially my baby.  She's the youngest of 4 which is a big deal for a mommy.

And while I'm not what you'd call a sentimental gal, this particular birthday has had me in quite a tailspin.

I can't exactly pinpoint why I'm so befrazzled about this 4th birthday.  I've been thru three previous 4th birthdays

and I've handled them quite calmly.  

But this one....it's just....different.  

I think it may be because this 4th birthday has entered me into a stage in my life that I've never seen.

For the past 13 years straight I've been able to classify my life into one (or 2 or 3!) of the following categories:

          

               I'm pregnant.

               I've got a newborn.

               I've got a toddler.

Each of those categories needs no explanation....they're self-containing....and they're a life unto themselves!

But 4....4 is different.  

4 is 'big kid' material.  And I don't like it. 

This rebellion of mine towards the number 4 could also be due to the fact that this is, indeed, the last time I will ever experience any of my children having a 4th birthday....or a 3rd...or a 2nd.....or a 1st.....or the birth day in all it's excitement and anticipation.   Hubby and I decided that having  4 creatures was more than blessed and hopefully Dr. Dorsey tied all the right things to make sure there's not 5 creatures anytime ever.  And I'm ok with that....really....no regrets.  

I believe I'm just realizing that this is the closing of a what's been a long, exhausting, exhilirating and ever-surprising chapter in this here life of mine.  I never thought those days would end.  

I'll miss them terribly.