Raising Children part 1

Lying in bed last night, trying to overcome a caffeine buzz induced by a few handfuls of semi-sweet chocolate chips (which for a no-coke, no-coffee drinking Mormon is quite a buzz), I turned over to Melissa and said, ‘Do you realize Olivia will be five when we get home?” Four year old Olivia is my Brother Jason’s oldest child, and until that moment had remained in my mind very much a baby.  I lived with Jason and his wife for a few months after Olivia was born during my first year of college, and remember the nights they spent calming her colic, the systematic way in which they manufactured her bottles of formula, and the tears they shed as they adjusted to being parents.
At the time I was an indifferent observer, a single sibling with nothing to worry about except homework and hormones, and could not have imagined what they were going through.  I could not fathom the sleep deprivation that came from trying to teach a new baby to sleep, nor could I have guessed the stress my brother felt as a full-time student trying to raise a family on a part time salary.  
Likewise, I had no taste of the joy they felt as they watched Olivia bend her face into the first inklings of expression, developing the beginnings of a little human personality. Certainly I had no idea how quickly they would begin to feel like their little girl was no longer a baby.  I regret the disinterested attitude with which I came and went while I lived there.