on track

tracks

I’m changing diapers and helping to sound out words and negotiating the black hole of teenaged feelings, depending on which of my three needs what from me at the moment. Hello, whiplash! Having children at three wildly different stages is a challenge, yes, but it’s also like having magic glasses: the biggest kid is so big that I see how quickly it happens. Blink! My girl won’t be “officially” a teen until next month, but she’s in the wheelhouse, for sure. I really love having a mostly grown, opinionated, and interesting daughter. But it’s not like the early years. I can’t guarantee connection by pulling down a pile of books and reading for hours. I can’t cheer up a sad little face by busting out my best (most ridiculous) dance moves. I can’t know for sure I’m on the right track. My bag of tricks, so to speak, isn’t a bag at all. And no tricks anymore, just a lot of talking. And by talking, I mostly mean listening. Listen, listen, listen, listen.

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