I wasn’t fully prepared to hear a two year old call my brother daddy. I could deal with watching him buying cases of diapers at Costco or having to go home around 8pm to tuck the little one in. I’m super proud of all of his fatherly actions (and, honestly touched to the point of teary but don’t tell anyone, I like to keep my tough girl image) but hearing the D word just about killed me. The problem with jumping into daddyhood with a two year old is that you don’t give people any adjustment time. With a newborn you have at least 6 month of adjustment before adulthood is cemented with the first cry of, “da-da,” but I had to go straight from “Kurt you can’t hold kittens by their head.” To “Kurt, your daughter is pooping, do something about that.” It’s a tough transition, especially when you can almost remember when daddy was in diapers. My week long visit was hardly sufficient time to mentally tag my brother as a Daddy (under D, right after Annoying before Doodyhead – I really need to update that list more often) but it only took an hour to stamp a big A is for Auntie on my own breast. Being an Aunt is almost as awesome as being a Grandparent and mom and I made a top notch baby sitting team (“Delianie, want some chocolate? I have a HUGE bar right here, gimmie a kiss and I’ll share!”).
As a kid I remember being annoyed with adults who cooed at me about how fast I was growing up – couldn’t they see that the journey from car seat to driver’s seat was taking FOREVER? Recently I turned into my enemy. On my visit home last week I had a chance to chat with Mom and Dad’s neighbor’s kids – you know, the ones I used to change diapers for; I was barely able to resist the pinching of cheeks. The oldest is a high school sophomore and was busy with football practice when he wasn’t busy shocking me with his baritone voice. The youngest and only girl is embarking on the adventure of seventh grade (I was barely able to resist telling her that life would get much much better if she could just stick out the next few years in hell). Needless to say, the growing up? Happening at an alarmingly quick pace. This seemly sudden transformation from child to man-child has me worried. Not just because I am reminded that my own transformation from hot young thing to crinkled old hag is in the works but because my new little niece is also on the fast track to adulthood. More than once last week I found myself in a bit of a panic about not seeing her again until Christmas when she will no longer be just two but will have catapulted into 2 and a quarter! Think of the words I’ll miss out on! Think of the climbing of water spouts by itsy bitsy spiders that I won’t get to sing about! (I know, I know… Think of the tantrums I won’t hear! Think of the diapers I won’t get to change!) When my mom brought up the open Sys Admin position at the hospital in town for the 500th time I almost jumped on it despite the job being located in the middle of nowhere and me having no actual job qualifications save, “Hey! Brianna does things with computers!” I hate to think about Miss Delanie growing up without me. I wonder if it’s possible to really know someone from 3000 miles away when you’re growing so fast and I defiantly want to know Delanie.