Almost Half-Way Through Chapter Four.

Have I mentioned how much I love my new laptop? I LOVE IT! I'm sitting on the couch next to my kids watching a second episode of Super Why (Abby's favorite!). We are all still in our pajamas and enjoying a lazy Sunday morning. I was inspired to write, because as I was zoned out reading the most recent issue of TIME magazine, Abby was trying to get my attention.

I've become very good at tuning out the world around me as I read, much to my husband's, and probably my children's, annoyance. But I'm pretty sure I've heard other mothers speak about this ability before. It's a survival tactic if any of us are expected to maintain our sanity amongst the squeals and screams of sibling rivalries, adolescent girls and/or the communication break-down that so often IS Autism. I was deeply engrossed in TIME's "Best of..." list for 2009, when I realized Abby was saying, "Mom, I want to talk with you!"

Whoa! No whine? No scream? A simple and straight-forward, "Mom, I want to talk with you." Amazing? Sure. But not what inspired this posting.

When she finally did get my attention, it was to tell me that she wanted to watch another Super Why as the first was ending. After I'd set up the initial episode to play from the DVR, she'd demanded, "Put the remote controls away!" I had joked, "Yes, Ma'am!" as I put the remote "away." When I reminded her of her sassy-pants instructions earlier, she smiled, wrinkled her nose and did a little sniff/half-laugh at herself.

She appeared so grown up to me as she enjoyed our little inside joke. I enjoyed it, too. Had the room been filled with other adults, it's likely that no one else would have understood our little joke. It wasn't really all that funny and deserved little more than the sniff/half-laugh that she bestowed it, but to me it spoke volumes.

It was the first time that she and I really connected on a more mature, inside-joke kind of level. My little girl is not a toddler anymore. For the most part she has shed the habits of a toddler and is now a small child. And I like it. I'm relieved.

I was reminded of something a friend said to me once a few years ago. Her daughter was just three and Abby was still a baby. I asked my friend, out of curiosity, if she planned to have any more kids. She answered, "No. I don't do so well with babies. I love them, but I'm better with kids." It struck a chord deep within me and I've thought of that often over the years.

I think it struck me, because at the time I was feeling guilty that while everyone around me was counseling me to "enjoy them while they are this little, because it goes by so fast," I was daydreaming about the day when I could have a conversation with Abby. I was longing for a little girl instead of a baby.

I was already keenly aware of how fast the time was flying, but I was grateful instead of sad. I knew what my friend meant. I adored my children as babies, but I'm happy to reminisce through pictures and memories, while making new ones. I might occasionally think warmly of Bean's tiny hand wrapped around my waist, tickling my skin as he nursed, but those memories are also accompanied by memories of sleep-deprived days when I was not at my parenting best. And while I might miss the feel of their tiny bodies in my arms, I do not miss those times when I felt downright "crazy". Not one bit.

I'm trying my best to enjoy these moments when my kids are small, because I know these moments are fleeting, but I'm so looking forward to inside jokes, hearing stories from my kids in addition to me telling stories to them and having real conversations with them.

It's the collective chapters that make a whole story. Like with every good book, I can hardly wait to get to the next chapter and in the end, as I finish the last chapter of our book, it will surely be bittersweet.

(All photos by Grandma Mary Johnson)