Sometimes I can’t help but look at B and wonder how in the world I got here. I told E the other day that I’ll probably still be doing this when B is 35 years old and has kids of his own. Then I’ll look at his kids and wonder how I got to be a grandma.
Life is so cyclical.
But I am so glad that this is where I am. It’s hard most of the time…especially when I just want five minutes for myself but I have this tiny little man begging me to read “Where the Wild Things Are,” to him and throwing a fit when I don’t do it RIGHTNOW. I see so much of myself in him, which is scary.
But I’m thankful. Thankful for what he teaches me. Thankful that he’s alive (his birth was scary). Thankful that this is where I am.