Suddenly six

When they're younger, the milestones are more obvious.

You watch as they learn to talk, walk, run, as they move from the bottle to baby food to whole food.

And then, suddenly, while you're not looking, while you're busy with schedules and accomplishing what the day demands, while you're busy with life, they're six years old.

And they're asking for tennis shoes that glitter and a Hannah Montana birthday cake. 

I look at my oldest daughter on her birthday and still see those chubby cheeks, that dimple I memorized when she was born. 

But she's grown into this sensitive, sometimes dramatic, little girl with her own friends, her own schedule, her own party invitations.

Six is a curious age. 

She still hugs me when she flies off the school bus, but it's a quick hug. She needs to make faces and wave goodbye to her friends.

She'll have lengthy phone conversations with her friends about High School Musical, tell me Sesame Street is "for babies."

But she'll still sit on my lap to watch "Little House on the Prairie." She'll look back at me, those big blue eyes shining, and say something poignant like, "This teaches me lessons to learn in my heart."

Just like that, I see this beautiful, amazing woman-to-be. 

And it's hard to believe that this is the same kid who tests the boundaries so much so sometimes that I truly wonder whether she's hormonal. 

She'll often fight with her sisters, say things like, "I don't like the way you're acting at me. You're not my best friend."

Then moments later, I'll hear her telling that same sister, "Let's dry your tears," as she wipes her cheek and gives her a hug.

As much as I've tried to shape her, she's shaping me. I'm learning to mother her not as the baby she was, but as the person she's becoming. A person with her own will, her own personality, her own sense of humor.

"If you can have any super power you wanted, what would it be?" I asked the kids as we were stuck in traffic one day. "Would you want to fly, breathe under water, be invisible..."