If on April 2nd I wrote about my daughter, B, it seems only fair that on April 11 I write about my daughter K.
I had the luxury of being a parent to only K for over four years. It didn’t seem like a luxury while it was happening, but it seems so now. As a fellow first-born, I don’t think any of us appreciate how special those early first years can be for our parents. Time to focus on only one child. Except, I think it should work backwards, because I certainly appreciate those rare moments with just one of my children NOW, much more than that long stretch of uninterrupted time when I really did have only one.
Anyway, K is my benchmark for children, how could she be otherwise? I cut my parenting teeth on her, after all! She is at once funny, sweet, smart, insightful, whiny and not a little high maintenance. When she was younger (around age 2), we had to put her to bed ourselves before the babysitter even arrived. Once my mother flew in for the weekend to watch her so my then-husband and I could have a nice dinner out. We even rented a hotel room where we were going to have a night and morning totally to ourselves. I called after dinner to find out how things were going, and could barely hear my mother for all the pitiful screaming going on. We went back to the house to put her to bed, and then went back to the hotel, but the evening was already ruined. And it was largely our fault for giving in.
Because of my daughter I met my dearest friend in the world. Because of my daughter I have put my personal life on long term hold. Because of my daughter I left a toxic marriage. Because of my daughter I strive to be better than I am. Because of my daughter(s), I worry about the future.
The days crawl, but the years fly.