This January has found me introspective. 2014 is the year my girl will finish middle school and start high school. This is the year she’ll get her braces off. The year she’ll start studying for her driving permit test. And I realized with an ache in my heart and my stomach, this year is, in more ways than I can really fathom, the beginning of the end. {Not to be extremely melodramatic … just the beginning of the end of the years she’ll live in our home. I realize there are many more exciting seasons ahead of us.}

So, I had a bit of pity party. I ate some chocolate and looked at her baby book.

And then, I pulled myself together because - oh my gosh! There’s only a few years left of this amazing person living in our home. And I don’t want to miss a thing {yeah, I hear the song in my head when I type that}. But even more, I want to do all I can to make sure when she leaves, she’s prepared. There are lessons she needs to learn and, for most of them, I’m the one who needs to teach them.

I’ve always tried to be intentional about parenting. I promised myself after the years of infertility before we were blessed to have our daughter I would not wish away the days. I’ve trained myself to find the beauty in even the ugliest, messiest days. But the thing I’ve found out is, you really never know when the last tea party is going to happen.

After Christmas I was cleaning out the china cabinet and pulled out the antique milk glass sandwich sets from my Mema. How many times did my girl and I use these very dishes to have afternoon tea? And when was the last tea party? What snacks did we pile on the “fancy” plates? Which of her dolls and stuffed animals were invited that day? Did we sit at the table or have a picnic in the floor? What did we discuss?

I can’t remember. If I’d known it was going to be the last tea party, I’d have taken a picture and written the details in my journal. But I don’t have a photo nor do I have the memories scribbled down. I think that’s how it happens most of the time. We know when the last elementary class party happens. We mark the end of pacifiers and baby beds. But those day-to-day moments like tea parties and dress up and Barbie movie marathons? Those can end without warning.

With this introspective state of mind, I’ve started noting the ordinary. Snapping photos of messy counters in the bathroom and saving the Sunday bulletins filled with equal parts sermon notes and notes with friends … I’m tracking the everyday stuff. Because when she leaves, when the day comes for her to step out of this cocoon we’ve made, I want my heart and hers to be wrapped up in all those little things like tea parties and Once Upon a Time marathons and chocolate chip cookies for dinner and conversations in the car.

When she leaves, I want to be able to say I didn’t miss a thing, I didn’t waste an opportunity — I lived in each moment. And I want to teach her to do the same!

What is one of the lessons you want to teach your girl before she leaves your home?