The last time someone turned ten around here was six years ago and apparently it was a pretty hectic week.
The past couple weeks haven't been like that -- not hectic-bad, just hectic-busy. Not the kind of busy that makes me cry out in dread, "Oh, no! What fresh hectic is this?"
No, it's just the usual summer-busy-stuff ... horseback riding and the water park and dinners with friends and good-byes to a beloved priest and insurance paperwork and writing a book and thinking about homeschooling plans for fall, and complaining about the heat ... the kind of stuff that reminds me that summer isn't really all that lazy or hazy, just crazy. And fast.
So, anyway, Ramona recently turned the corner into the double digits.
My baby was three years old (and Quimby-ish) when I started blogging.
She's still Quimby-ish, in the way that Ramona in the books remained Ramona, but more so. Deliciously more so. You know?
That's all I can manage right now as far as reflecting on my three beautiful daughters and this inexplicable thing they keep doing called aging. It's right and its good but it's weird. But somehow I'm happier every year and I love to see the people they are turning into.