Baby's Growing Up

I can't believe it, but I am typing this while simultaneously hosting a sleepover birthday party for twenty-something fifteen year olds(I honestly don't even know how many of them are up there). The first two hours were deafeningly loud, with pizza and candy and cake and music and shrieking and laughter. I thought, how will we get through this? But they are now all quietly huddled together and watching Chocolat. It's very quiet. I wonder how many of the ten movies my daughter picked they'll watch. I wonder how many will fall asleep before midnight, and how many will sleep at all. (including me) I can't believe my girl is almost fifteen years old. Sometimes it feels like she's been here for a hundred years, and I'm two hundred myself. Other days I remember the moment she was born like it was this morning.

When she was two, we had a homemade play-dough and plastic wading pool party. (weird, same time of year, and it was about a hundred degrees outside) When she was four we had a teddy bear party at Piedmont Park. They played in the sandbox. There were bees but nobody got stung. We've had a Cinderella princess party at Fairyland, a tumbling party at Gymboree, a dress-up-like-puppies party, a miniature party, and several sleepovers out at the youth hostel in the Marin Headlands. Last year she just wanted a dinner with her friends at the Cheesecake Factory on top of Macy's. This year, it's facials and pedicures with her many girlfriends. A few weeks ago I was driving past Toys R Us and realized I hadn't been in there in years. My girls don't play with toys anymore. They're growing up. This is both wonderful and sad.