one kid short

If I don’t already have proof that my children are growing up, I only have to dress the baby to know for sure. “I bought this sweatshirt for Maggie,” I mentioned the other night when we went to the lobster pound for supper. “Grandmother bought this dress for Mary when we got back to the States,” I said when getting her dressed for Mass yesterday, “There is certainly no way she could fit into it now!”

Mary and I had a girl’s day out a few weeks ago, buying that first support undergarment (even though she really doesn’t need any support right now), and celebrating with lunch. Now she is at camp with a multitude of other girls doing whatever they do at summer camp. We talked about what to expect and what I need her to do: be sociable, eat enough so she doesn’t come back skinnier than she is now, participate, take showers, and brush her teeth. I do worry about her since she still hides behind me when asked a question, but I know deep down that she will be fine. In fact when we were pulling away from cabin #10, she and her new friend Lizzy were racing toward the bath house with bathing suits in hand to take their swimming test. It reminds me that soon enough she will be at college and not have me to nag her to do her schoolwork, practice the piano, and practice basic hygiene. One day I won’t spend every moment of the day trying to get someone to behave, but since Julia Ellen is not quite 16 months old, that day still seems very far away.