Whatever we imagine is going on without us, can go on without us. In fact, all things either continue, or will wait for us. There is never an extra moment with our children.

Toddlerhood is a challenging stage. My daughter has the newfound ability to express her wants, needs and excessively irrational, endless, countless, infinite demands with words, yet lacks the decency to keep it to herself.

What if motherhood puts an even greater distance between an already estranged mother-daughter relationship? What if it makes you feel even less connected to your mother, makes your understanding of her motives and choices during your childhood that much more elusive?

Be my baby -- not for long, and not forever, but for today -- and I promise that for this moment, I will be present and enjoy every single second of it.

In the days left, we would live life in the way that Maddie loved. We would enjoy our time, and use our "forever" to miss her. She was here now and needed her little sisters, Amelia and Lucy, her family, her friends and lots of fun.

I think about the next female that might look over at him in a car. A faceless girlfriend. He is too adorable for words, with his dimples, endless brown eyes and that shaggy surfer hair that curls just right. He is no longer the fat baby who hated being in his car seat.

If by age 9, my daughter already has a Kindle Fire, access to an iPad and has been to New York City twice and on and on, what is left for her to experience when she is older? Am I somehow setting her up for crushing disappointment?

My sons take their seats, the motor kicks on and the swings start turning to the right in a soft, careful circle. It is their spotlight. It is as wide as a slow dance and twice as wild. Their hearts beat accordingly. They pass me by again and again. The only thing that changes is the calendar.

All day long, day after day, our children are turning to us with questions seeking information, wisdom or guidance... and sometimes, just pestering us or stalling before bedtime. It's a natural role for us and a natural role for them. But the truth is, I don't have all of the answers.

These kids of mine, of ours, they are our life's work and in a lot of ways they are traveling due East or due West from us even as we stand there, running our fingers through their freshly shampooed hair.

My oldest daughter turned four this March. I know four may not seem like much, to a more seasoned mother, but in our family it was a turning point.

One day, I was (over) preparing to have a baby, and now I have a 10-year-old. I can't really tell you how the biggest chunk of his childhood has already happened and is already in the books, but it is. It's done. I hope it was good.