I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but it happened.
Was it sometime this summer? Or did it happen before then, maybe last fall? Did it happen in a sudden flash, like the Big Bang, marked by some kind of milestone that I missed along the way? Or was it a more gradual process, indiscernible on a daily basis and then one day—POW!—the reality is obvious and undeniable?I’m not sure when or how it happened, but here we are in the midst of the in-between years.There were days when I honestly didn’t think we’d make it to the in-between years. I assumed we would be stuck in the Groundhog Day–cycle of the baby-toddler-preschool years. I was certain—absolutely certain—that parenthood would be an endless loop of diaper changes and nap schedules and time-outs.
But both of my children are in school now—kindergarten and third grade, respectively—and they no longer seem to fit into any of the prescribed phases of childhood. We have long since left the Jekyll-and-Hyde-ness of newborn and toddler years. And while they might still act like threenagers now and then, those times are fewer and farther between. We are still a few years away from the tornado that is adolescence, and several years away from the nest-leaving years of young adulthood. My sons are young, but not too young; they are big, but not too big. They are simultaneously big kids and little kids. They are in-between.
You can read more of this post about the In-Between Years, which appeared on Scary Mommy, here.