Not only is she the middle child, but she's also the least demanding of the trio. She'll mention something once and then it catches me off guard when it happens. (In contrast her brothers, especially Braeden, talk all. The. Time. I usually know what's happening with them, like it or not.)
This is her about to walk out the door on her last (sniff) day (sniff) of school (sniff, sniff). She was good enough to smile for me when I said "Wait! Wait! I need a picture!"
And graduating. (Oh, have I mentioned that? One or twelve times?)
It snuck up on me. I was wringing my hands well in advance of Braeden graduating, maybe because he's oldest and everything he does is shiny and new. With Emma I feel like I'm just trying to catch up. Really? This is happening?!?
I'm excited for her. She is on the verge of Big and Exciting things. I loved college. I know she will too. She's beyond capable and I know that whatever she ends up doing, she'll be brilliant. I know that she'll have hard times. Everyone does. I know people will let her down and she'll let herself down and things won't always turn out the way she wants.
I sort of welcome all that hard stuff for her too. I know it will form her into the woman that she was meant to be.
Here is Emma last night heading out the door for her drama banquet. For Braeden the drama banquet meant wear the baby blue suit he bought at DI. For Emma, it meant ramp. Up. That. Makeup.
Drama kids keep things dramatic.
As she spreads her wings to leave the nest I realize more and more that this isn't about me. I was blessed with these three remarkable children to do my best with, but they aren't mine. I hope they occasionally (often) beat a path back to our door and open the fridge to look for food and get comfortable on the couch. I hope they confidently carry in their back pocket forever that their mother loves them (a lot).