I had a dream the other night. Most dreams don't make any sense to me but after some reflection I knew exactly what this one meant. In my dream, Evan was holding a newborn. I found him holding the baby over the balcony in our house. In my dream I didn't know who the baby was. I ran to catch the baby, which I did, just in time. Evan was upset that I caught it. I was upset he tried to drop it. What I now understand is this: Evan is growing up and I need to let him. The baby in the dream was his baby years, he's letting go of them and I'm not ready. He turned 5 in December and when Emily was 5 I treated her as a much older child, because I had another baby to baby, same with Olivia. But Evan's my last and I'm having a hard time coming to terms with that. Sometimes I think if life were simpler and I didn't do all the things I do for Taylor's office, not to mention the stress, then I might just have another one. It just doesn't seem practical right now. I mean, like anything in life, the stresses and workload ebb and flow, but mostly it seems to much to ad a baby in the mix.
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