I've suddenly found myself at an interesting "phase" of life. I'm now that mom who looks at her friends with young babies and I feel everything. EVERYTHING. All. The. Things. Like, when did I suddenly become the "old" mom of the group? And, where did my babies go? And, how on earth do I have a 21 year old?! TWENTY-ONE YEARS OLD, PEOPLE! How can that be when I feel like I'm only 26?! Surely someone is playing tricks on me. But then, something happens and I smacked upside the head with the reality that yes, indeed, I am that "old" mom. For example, my middle child broke his hand a couple of weeks ago. Broke a bone in his hand clear through...no teeny little fracture or anything, but a bonafide break. Once upon a time I would've been sick with worry. Probably teary eyed and weepy over the whole thing. I would've made him a bed on the couch and he would've gotten gifts to wish him well and I probably would've wr