I measure the passing of time and events by the ages of my kids. Maybe most mothers do that.
I remember where I was and what year it was because what I remember is that "Amy was still in high school." Or "Adam had already moved away." Sometimes it's "that's when Lucy cut her hair short."
The end of the year and the coming New Year is always bittersweet for me. Jonathan was born on December 30th. And it's always his birthday that makes me feel that time is not so much marching on as it is screaming by.
Still, I'm delighted every day by what a remarkable human being my youngest is becoming. (I would call him my "baby," but that phrase is completely unacceptable and doesn't at all fit him any longer.)
Jonathan is 17 today.
I need to get a slower calendar.
Happy Birthday, my son.