We've just come through one of those weekends that don't feel very restful. We were in full divide-and-conquer mode. I hardly saw JB as we swapped kids in driveways and hallways. 

And so it was that I ended up standing at the kitchen counter last night—just before midnight—making a banana bread for this week's lunch boxes. In a haze of exhaustion, I ended up pressing the go button instead of the release on my electric mixer. 

Banana bread batter went everywhere and splattered all over the cupboards above the space I was standing. I didn't bother with them and headed to bed instead.

I know it's going to be one of those weeks—when I've got an impossible list to accomplish and a heart that wants to be somewhere else. 

I felt it first thing this morning as I swiped a cloth across the caked on batter and thought about how we really had to do something about our peeling kitchen cabinets, which then set off a rolling list of to-do, to-do, to-do that left me dizzy. 

This is the what happens to me when there's something I don't particularly want to deal with or face; I let my mind get cluttered with lists and distractions. 

My baby girl is turning four this weekend. I've been feeling a swirl of emotions for a few weeks now. And her building excitement has me near tears. I don't feel ready. 


Yes, deeply so. 


Yes, that too.

Normally, JB throws me a good-natured eyeroll when I get like this, but he's feeling the same. 

Four is officially outside the baby days, isn't it?

No longer a baby or toddler, and well on the way past the preschool days.

Too big for the crib.

Too fast for a lift on the way to ballet class each week. 


She's leaving these days behind, which means we are too. 

This birthday will mean the early days of parenthood are over, and my heart hurts with the thought of it.

There are so many moments from the last twelve years that I want to remember, to hold on to, to go back and do again—because they gave me so much joy. 

My girl came along as I was stepping out of the haze of three kids in four years, as if to show me that I had figured it out. She has been on the receiving end of my best parenting and has filled a space we didn't know was there. 

She is the clasp that loops the very first days of parenthood to our present day life and holds it there, reminding us of the "remember whens" for each of our children. 

Last week, she caught me with my eyes closed, my mind somewhere else.

Why do you have your eyes closed, Mum-mum?

Oh I was just thinking about something.

I think you were making a wish, Mum-mum. I hope it comes true.

I opened my eyes and looked at her standing in front of me, eyes round with delight, dimples flashing on her slimmed down cheeks. 

And she reminded me again. Banana bread, peeling cabinets, homework, dance class, swimming lessons, date nights in the family room. 

All of greatest wish already here. 




Elan Morgan

Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works through Elan.Works and is a designer and content editor at GenderAvenger. They have been seen in the Globe & Mail, Best Health, Woman's Day, and Flow magazines and at TEDxRegina and on CBC News and Radio. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.