Yesterday my youngest turned 13. I am now a mother to three teenagers. I was a young mother, but not in a teen pregnancy, irresponsible way. I don't feel young. Having teenagers ages you in a way nothing else can. Compared to my friends, I am a dinosaur. Not in years so much, but in child-rearing. 

Everyone around me is having babies, or raising toddlers. Granted, we do have a lot of friends younger than us, but even those in their late 30s and early 40s are just beginning their families. 
I don't want to give the wrong impression— I am really happy for my friends, and estatic it's not me. I want to say I am like an auntie, but I do feel a bit more like a grandmother. I get exhaused at the thought of having to spend more than 4 or 5 hours taking care of a small human. I haven't had to bathe, burp or diaper mine for years. 

I do have great kids. They aren't trouble makers, they do what they're told (often accompanied by several complaints, but it gets done), they express their appreciation and love for us, they like to spend time with us, and no matter how much they have been fighting with one another, they always have the other's backs.

 My oldest will be graduating from high school in 2014 and will turn 18 at the beginning of the new year. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I am scared for him (probably more for me) and his foray into the real world. I want to protect them from everything bad, but I think Jon and I have done a pretty good job or preparing our children for their lives. We will continue to teach them to be kind and patient, to be good listerners and stand up for who and what they believe in. Then we will have to step back and try our hardest not to interfere. 

Ugh- growing up sucks.

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