It's your fault.

Yes, I blame you. Any of you that call yourself my friend and happen to have a daughter over the age of four. Why did you not tell me this was coming? I mean, I knew it would come at some point, but I thought we'd at least be approaching the teen years before I had to think about it. The tears, the emotions, the hormones that come with raising a daughter.

Now, I've endured the ones (which Elle is reminding me how much I don't love, which is also probably why I've erased Sydney's one's from my mommy memories) only to move on to the terrible twos, which really aren't all that bad. A few temper tantrums here and there, but nothing compared with the stubborns that come at three. But, the endearing thing about the three's is that there are moments that are all so sweet and make up for the less sweet moments and then some. And the fact that suddenly there is this compassion that comes about and my world is suddenly flooded with hugs and kisses, and gifts of carefully selected weeds, and rocks, and worms, and whatever other creatures my dear one thought might pique my interest. Then we roll into the fours, where clearly she is old enough to take care of herself (how dare I even think of walking in with her to get her allergy shots.) But why, why, WHY didn't someone tell me we'd be jumping head first into the world of those girly emotions?

Driving back from my parent's house the other day I bought a new-to-us movie (gotta love Redbox) and she got stated watching Beverly Hills Chihuahua. She was so proud that she hadn't cried when we were leaving, so when I look back 45 minutes later and she is in tears I ask what is wrong. I can't understand beyond all of the sniffling. I'm ready to pull over.

M: Are you sad because we left Grandma's?

S: (shakes her head no, and sticks her lip out even further)

M: Did you have an accident?

S: Of course not, mom!

M: Well, honey, what is wrong?

S: It is...it is....it is just that this, this, this movie. It is SOOO Sad. The puppy. She is all alone without her friends. I don't think. I can possibly...sniff... continue to watch it.

Fast forward. David is out of town. Normally, not a problem because it means the girls get to sleep with me and we get to go out to dinner one night somewhere Daddy hates and we love, so it is a huge "break thre rules" couple of days. But, this time Sydney starts crying, partially due to the lack of a nap. She misses her Daddy. Everything she sees somehow reminds her of her daddy. Finally, she falls asleep (much later that she needed to be taking a nap, but at this point I'm just glad she isn't crying.) I decide that I need something from Hobby Lobby and try to wake Sydney up. She gets up, mulls around for an hour or so, pouting because she misses daddy. I point out that she needs to hurry and get around or Hobby Lobby will be closed and we won't be able to go. So, finally at eight o'clock we leave (because all intelligent people leave the house to run errands at 8 p.m. with small children) and arrive at Hobby Lobby and an amazingly empty parking lot. I drive past the door, check the hours, and see that it closes at 8 p.m. I look in the backseat and say in my most chipper voice. "Oh, darn. It is closed. We'll have to come back another day." Cue the tears.

S: I'm soooo sorry Mom. It is all my fault. They closed because I wouldn't hurry. I'm so sorry. It is all, all, all my fault. (At this point she is folded into a small ball)

M: No it isn't. I didn't get us going in time. Even if you would've hurried we still would have missed it.

S: No, they knew I was taking too long, so they closed.

So, this is how we begin the emotional rollercoaster that I'm sure will end about the time she finishes having children. I'm not sure I am prepared for this.