Birthdays make me cry.

Crap. My daughter is 12. I think that makes it’s official that she’s not a little girl anymore. She’s been trying to convince me of that for years but now I think I might actually believe it. She’s taller than her brother – he’s going on 14. It’s a sore point so we don’t press it. Well, she might press it a little bit but hey, that’s what sisters are for, right?

She and I now have conversations that don’t necessarily revolve around princesses and unicorns. Though according to the sign on her bedroom door, you do have to be a unicorn to enter.

I’m not sure how I feel about this new stage we’re entering. I’ve never been the mom who got emotional about my babies growing up but this whole baby-girl-in-middle-school thing is throwing me for a loop. Sure, my firstborn is in 8th grade so clearly I’ve been down this road before but it’s different with her somehow…

As I try to wrap my brain around it, I’ll wipe the tears away and enjoy what’s left of her childhood, trampoline parks and all.