Queen of questions and not a lot of answers

Where does the time go?

You look in the eyes of your newborn sweet baby girl and it's like all of a sudden she's 13. It's not as though I'm shocked by the number of her age, but by the passing of time. She's always been mature for her age, almost too mature, really. Did I push her to be so? I wonder.

Why is it my children have a birthday and I get melancholy? I get weepy every time either of the girls have a birthday. I like to think it's not being self-absorbed and thinking about myself, but that I do so because of the memory of what it was like to first hold them, love them, smell them. The promise of their life in those first few moments come back on each and every birthday. As each one comes and goes I'm faced with the fact my babies need me less and less everyday. Is that a good thing? I think so at times. I like to think it means on some level I've done a good job in raising independent incredible young woman so far.

I didn't do the forming and nurturing alone, but lately I have and that brings with it a certain amount of sadness, but on some narcissistic, level, pride as well. I would never have dreamed in a million years to be raising my daughters in a broken home, but a home that is happier. I try to keep a positive spin on life and I find at times like this, I struggle. The cost of divorce is high. Where is there a positive to be found in a 13 year old girl that doesn't see her father on her birthday? If there is one, someone enlighten me, because I sure as heck can't see it. I would move a mountain to be with my children. Does that make me a hero? I think not. Does it make me judgemental of those that do differently? That really is the question. What is more important than your children? A tattoo? A shopping trip? Help me out here would ya, I'm confused.