Kira recently posted about her manchild (11-year-old Tre) being stalked by a horrid thuglike 13-year-old girl who likes to stand near Tre and smile alot, and she has boobs. I did not have boobs at 13. However, I happen to know a soon-to-be 13 year old girl who has been mistaken more than once for an adult. At 5’4", 120 pounds with curves, the girl looks like an adult. This is not comforting to a parent, and I feel pretty confident saying that as uncomfortable girls smiling around Tre make Kira, the girl’s parents are also just as uncomfortable.

I’ve been contemplating aging and parenting lately (Be patient, I really am NOT switching topics). And I think having children changes the way you measure time.

I can’t look at my child and see them just as they are right this minute. Instead, I see my child and I immediately picture them as a baby and a toddler and going off to school for the first time, and sometimes I even imagine future versions of the child. Yet, it is so hard to picture them at the age they are right this minute.

Maxine will be 10 in June. I constantly have to remind myself she is no longer 8. Justin is 8, and if I tell someone how old he is without thinking about it first, I’ll answer 6. The same goes for Amanda and Autumn. As their mom, I think of them as at least two years younger than they really are. And, of course, the older they are the more likely they are to think of themselves as 5 years older than they are.

So Autumn thinks she is 18 and independent, and I think of her as 11. Why would she want to wear make up? And it really floors me when I learn Amanda’s friends are wearing make up to school already.

But sometimes I just can’t help but be forced to realize my children are growing up. A couple of weeks ago Autumn brought home a form to sign up for her classes next year. The form was from Houghton Lake HIGH SCHOOL. That’s right. Next year, Autumn will be attending the high school. High School. Did I say I thought of her as 11? Is it too late to make her 8 again?

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It started with Autumn, then Justin, but now Maxine has gotten in on it too. I am in charge of finding good reading material for my kids. Autumn reads pretty much whatever I do. Justin and Maxine loves reading books I read when I was a kid. Although I make it clear any scribble marks was not done by me (most likely my niece Jessica or my nephew Shawn did those).

Yesterday, I finished listening to My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult. I cried. I was sitting in my kitchen, the last side of the last tape playing as I unloaded groceries. My kids wandered in to ask what was wrong with me. So I told them about the story. Without meaning to, I took Mem Fox’s advice and let my kids see me reacting to a story. It’s a good story. Go read it.