When I first became a mom, when my daughter was two or three months old, I remember thinking, “What’s all the fuss about? This is fun.”

It’s true. With parenting there always seems to be something new to learn. It’s like if each day when you came to work as, say … a florist (I don’t know why). But anyway, each morning when you unlocked the door to the flower shop the flowers had changed in unexpected ways. You still have to try to make beautiful arrangements, but you never know what you’re working with. That’s what keeps momming interesting. You really can’t get a handle on it completely.

Well, when my daughter was more like 6 or 8 months old, I had another thought: “Eighteen years is a long time to spend raising someone up.” Suddenly, I could envision the day in and the day out of it, the all night long of it, stretching out in front of me for weeks, months and, gulp, years.

Yeah, I know, that’s just how long it takes. But at less than a year into it, I was feeling like maybe I had been a little overly-optimistic in my earlier assessment of the situation.

I’m happy to report that so far it’s been both fun AND overwhelming. Honestly, parenting really could fill up every moment of every day. But should it?

I have asked myself this question from time to time over the years. But now that my daughter and her friends have blossomed into preteens the answer has become, well, a little bittersweet. That’s because each morning when I open the door to the flower shop, the flowers HAVE changed in unexpected ways. They are learning to arrange themselves. And who wants to get in the way of that kind of magic?