Happy birthday to my baby, Tacey, the baby of the family. I can't believe that she is 4! It is such a bitter sweet feeling. The birthday of the first born and second born are totally different, at least for me. With the oldest, it is a feeling of nostalgia, one of accomplishment, the firsts, the parenting mistakes, the uncharted territories. With the second, it is one of relief that we have both survived, the twos and the threes, and are safely headed into the fours. It is one of sadness, that this little person, was the last baby I nursed, the last one in a crib, the last nursery that was decorated, the last one rocked to sleep. But it is also liberating, free from bottles and sippy cups and feeding times and diaper bags and diapers and diaper pails and strollers and high chairs. Four is a milestone. It is that age when you realize that your baby isn't a baby anymore, she is a big girl now. She is capable of washing her own hands and putting on her own clothes and opening the car door on her own. It is a feeling of finally being able to reclaim my life. The person that I am and was before I was someone's mom. Don't get me wrong, I would never trade being someone's mom or wife for anything in the world. But now that my youngest child is four, I am Sunny again, not just Taylor's and Tacey's mom. I am free to peruse my own interests again, while the kids are at school of course. But for six beautiful hours each week, I am just Sunny.
Tacey, on her fourth birthday.
My angel, on the day she came home from the hospital.
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