It happened last weekend. My firstborn turned 13. Thirteen is such a milestone number, a new page in the parenting chapter – and a reminder that your days of creating childhood memories are becoming shorter and shorter.
For the past few years now I’ve thought about how I would feel when I found myself a parent of a teenager. Perhaps it was the pre-conceived notion in my head that parents of teenagers are old and tired (Old? No. Tired? I think so) that led me to wonder about it. I didn’t know whether I would feel happy that I had made it this far on the parenting journey without major hiccups, or cry my eyes out because…well, I blinked and she turned 13.
