Where did the time go?

When we bought this house, our daughter was two years old. It was September of 2001 and our nation had just been attacked. As we were beginning to live the American Dream, America was living a Nightmare. It was hard to be so excited when everyone was mourning.

We settled in the quiet neighborhood and started to unpack, well I unpacked. My husband got naked and ran through the house. He was a homeowner, and this was his way of celebrating. I laughed, the kid napped and all was great in our small world.

Our Two Year Old Daughter, 9/2001

That was on Friday. The first morning in our new home, we were awoken by what sounded like a man yelling in the court. Rich looked out the window, but saw nothing. We went in the backyard, and that's when we could hear the man's voice loud and clear. There was a football game at the high school. He was an announcer on a microphone naming off little football players' names and numbers. To some new homeowners, this would not be a welcomed alarm clock. But to us, we loved it.

We chose this part of Roseville for the easy commute, affordability, great schools, community vibe, gorgeous parks and because it just felt right. To two broke kids who grew up in the East Bay, East Roseville felt like The Hamptons. We joked that someday our little girl would go to the high school with the loud PA system. Although the school sits just a block away, it seemed like light years away to us.

This fall, that two year old will be attending that high school. We are beside ourselves with a mixed sense of grief and a rush to make these next four years slow down.

My husband and I both attended three different high schools and countless elementary schools. To us, our main goal was always to raise her in one house, attend one (or three as fate had it) local elementary schools, one junior high, and one high school. We feel accomplished that we provided this foundation for her...and scared as hell that in less than four years, she will be an adult. Done. Gone. This is our two year old. We basically "just" moved here, right? No. It's been a long and fast 13 years, and in August, she's going to be a Freshman. We aren't ready, but we can't stop it. It's a weird feeling.

You can't prepare for what you don't know. This is our first child. Have we done enough? Will she have a good time? Will she make new friends, avoid the high school mean girls, star in theater shows, play sports? Will she fall in love? Will she have her heart broken? All if this, just seems like too much to think about.

What makes this time even more nostalgic is that we have a two year old here in this house. He is a blessing, a miracle, and a reminder to us of what it felt like when we moved here with our little girl. He is growing like a weed and his pictures show a boy-face now, not a baby. We are trying to enjoy every single moment of his little life because one thing we do know for sure is that he will be attending the same high school with the loud PA in a few years. They don't seem like light years though, we know better now.