Matter of Perspective

Last night I had someone ask me how many kids I had and their ages. Probably because I was tired and relaxed, in a strange place without the kids, or the fact I had just finished a big glass of plum wine...I gave their ages as 12 and 8 years old. I immediately corrected myself and, pleasantries done, we went on to the matter at hand (room service, YUM--more on that next post).

This morning as I lay in bed enjoying the non-wake up calls of my children, I pondered upon that mistake. Why did I say 12 and 8? Probably because our original plan would have had the kids be closer in age, and my ideal age gap would have been 4 years apart. Yet again the age gap question that lurks in the deepest corners of my subconscious. This time, however, I started realizing that I actually was happy the length in age, for I am starting to see Michael grow out of childhood and into teenage/young adulthood. And there is Willow, just on the cusp of all the things I really love about childhood. So, while sometimes I do wish that they were closer in age, I realized that while that would have been my "ideal", I am damned lucky to have this chance to relive those childhood milestones again, and yet see the future too.