And Away We Go
Welcome to Milestone Alley, occupation: five.
Where shall we begin?
On Friday, I got word from my agent that after approximately two years, ten months, and one day (not that I was counting), I don’t have to revise my novel anymore. Just like that, it’s ready for the next step. And just like that, I’m working on a new idea. Because I never liked nighttime TV, sleep before midnight, or empty hampers anyway.
Today, my oldest daughter starts kindergarten, and in a sense, the rest of her life. I thought I was ready for this.
I am not.
Today, my tentative youngest daughter begins preschool, and takes the first step of her life that does not follow her big sister. I have to stand back and watch her go.
Today, my husband begins not just a new job, not just a promotion, but a new career.
Because it’s never too late.
Oh, and Cian? He turned eight months old this weekend, and the very same day, two months ahead of when I expected it, started to crawl. I made lunch, and saw that he’d followed me into the kitchen. He says “baba” and “mama.” He weighs 20 pounds. He skipped pureed foods altogether, and eats stalks of broccoli and carrots, and peach slices and cucumbers, and (don’t judge me) pizza crusts. He is perilously close to not being a baby anymore.
It all happens so quickly, when it starts to happen, doesn’t it? I had a colleague once tell me that, when it seems that everything is happening at once–whether bad or good–it’s because God knows that we handle it best if we’re hit with it all at one time. The theory is that shock–or sensory overload, really–can be a decent coping mechanism. Smart lady, that teacher friend.
Life is changing. We’re on the cusp of, of…I don’t know. We never know. But once you’re on the roller coaster, all you can do is trust that you’re secure, throw your arms in the air, and fly.
Luckily for me, I love a good roller coaster. Even if this one we’re on sometimes seems a little too fast.