The very first column

How it all started... Ripped Jeans I am a mother of three, in my mid 30s. I grew up the youngest of 4 in Colorado. When my boss asked me to write my own column, I thought, ok. He then told me it will be about anything and everything...life. Oh, and your column needs a name. My mind starts racing going through the typical names you would think of associated with writing. Then, I thought about life, my life, as that is where most of my writing comes from. I was name after my Grandma Jean, my family called me "jeans", as a nickname. We live in the country and that automatically brought the image of my little boy, running around getting messy in a pair of ripped jeans and a t-shirt. Then it hit me, "Ripped Jeans". Some of my worst moments were accomplished in a pair of ripped jeans. When I have a mess to deal with, what do I grab, my ripped jeans. When it's time for fun, my ripped jeans. When I go running down grassy hills with my kids, and get grass stains, it's ok because I'm wearing my ripped jeans. When we blow bubbles, and the bubble solution spills; when we paint and I get it on me, when it rains and we splash in mud puddles, I'm wearing my favorite ripped jeans. Sure they come away with more rips and stains, but they also show some of my favorite memories. So grab your favorite pair of ripped jeans and let's do this! ******** So here we go... I remember as a child, time seemed to stand still. Days would drag on forever, and all I wanted was the time to fly by. By the time I graduated high school, time picked up the pace. Now it seems I blinked and 17 years have passed. Life has thrown me for some loops; so much has happened, and it all goes by so fast. Suddenly, I'm married, have moved a few times, and have three kids. The kids that were just starting school are now graduating, beginning their own journey. I blinked and the little boy next door is suddenly a young man going off to college. He went from short and stocky, to tall and all muscle. I go to hug him and only make it to his chest. We said our see you later's the other day. There is a picture of him and my daughter when they were both little, she is in a princess dress holding a football. He is sitting next to her because he was patient enough to play football with a three year old in a princess dress. I blinked again; now she is nine, and I have a six-year-old, and a three-year-old. Memories of the little boy that grew up across the street flood my mind, as I watch him move away from home. I think back to when he told me I talk too fast. We had a dog named Max, when he got a puppy, he wanted to name his dog Max. Somewhere along the line, you go from being the fascinating one to the one that is fascinated. You sit back and watch these kids grow, and become their own person. You catch a glimpse here and there of what they might become when they are older. As a parent, you just want them to be happy, and make good choices. Those were my parting words for Logan. "Enjoy yourself, have fun, but make good choices." I also reminded him to answer my phone calls and texts. I have confidence in them, and know we can sit back and let them take over it's time to make decisions for themselves. Seems like just yesterday my oldest was starting kindergarten. Before I know it, she will be in middle school. If I blink again, she will be going off to college. I can't wait to see what all these kids become and someday I will see them with their own little kids. For now, I remind myself once in a while to stop and take in the moment, enjoy it while it lasts, and try not to blink so much.