Today marks 22 years since I started my journal, which means I am one of the unfortunate few who can revisit (in great detail) their 12-year-old self. I don’t actually do that, of course — those older volumes are buried in a closet somewhere, plus I have no desire to go that far back in time. I sometimes look back two or three years, but that’s about it. Part of me believes that having my life on paper like that could help me be a better mom once my kids hit their teen years, but that remains to be seen.

Speaking of getting on in years…Justin turns six next week, which just seems unreal. We’ve got him doing a few things around here he never used to do (he gets his own breakfast, makes his own bed, washes the kitchen floor) and I constantly marvel at how much he’s grown up. He’s even doing so well at school that his aide has been telling the resource teacher that Justin doesn’t really need her, which is amazing. His class has been learning how to square dance and it’s beyond adorable to see him do-se-do’ing and laughing with all the other kids. His anxiety level is way, way, way down (at a birthday party a couple weeks ago he was right in there whapping the balloons with everybody else, and it wasn’t long ago that balloons would freak him out to the point that he would have to leave the room) and it’s just awesome to see.