My daughter wants two mommies and two daddies. She told me this the other day. She thinks it would be "cool." I suppose when you're five, the idea of having twice as many people to dote on you isn't so bad.

Early in my years as a parent, I realized that so long as I have something to say about it, my children will always have two parents living in the same house. I realized their lives would be easier for it. And as difficult as life is, I don't want something I can control to add more difficulty to their lives. So yes, I'm among the part of society that believes it is best for couples to stay together for the sake of the children.

Fortunately I live within the confines of a happy and loving marriage. So living up to this ideal hasn't been difficult at all thus far. But now it turns out that this isn't want my eldest child wants.

I understand she's five. I understand that she doesn't comprehend what this implies. In spite of my explanation that in order for Mommy and Daddy to marry other people, we couldn't be married to each other anymore. We wouldn't all live in the same house anymore. She would live part of the time with me and part of the time with Daddy. She smiles and nods eagerly as though this is the best idea she's ever had.

I know that she doesn't know that there are millions of children in the world who dream of the day when their parents will be reunited, bringing together the happy family and restoring order to their world. I know she doesn't know that she is lucky and that all in all, her life is easier for having both of her parents in the same home. Yet I am still saddened by her request.

Obviously, no matter how much she wants her father and I to get married to another man and woman so she can have two mommies and two daddies, this isn't going to happen. And we have told her so. But there is a part of me that is almost offended at the request, even though it is from a five year old. Here I've been feeling so proud of myself for giving my children the ideal nuclear family, *as defined by family values institutes across the country, and it turns out that isn't even what they want. It is a hopeless chase. Assuming we can please our children. Assuming we can give them what is best. No matter what we provide for them, no matter what efforts we make, no matter how simple the assumption, it will be wrong. They will always want the opposite of what they have.

My daughter is doomed. She will never have the broken family that she thinks she wants. Two bedrooms, twice the toys, twice the clothes, parents pandering to the kids out of guilt. I can see the appeal.

It's just too bad for my daughter that my husband and I actually love each other.

Where did all my new go?

I remember life as a youth as feeling magical. Everything just seemed more special fifteen years ago. And as I was driving today, listening to Taylor Swift sing her most recent hit on the radio about life as a fifteen year old, I thought about what it was like when everything was new.

Newness. That is what brings magic into youth. Everyday is filled with something new. Something previously undiscovered. A new experience. A new revelation. A new bit of knowledge. Something new is bound to cross your path when you are so new to this world.

And as I thought about the magic I felt as I experienced my first kiss, my first time driving a car, my first day in a new school, all of the firsts I've experienced, it makes me wonder if "new" is no longer a part of my life. Is this yet another curse that comes with becoming an adult? Loss of magic, loss of excitement, loss of new.

There are plenty of things I will experience for the first time going forward. But they all seem to be in relation to my children. I will someday (presumably) be a grandmother. That will be new. I will give my child(ren) away at their weddings. That will be new. I will accompany them through all of the firsts, all of the new, as they go through their lives. But I will only be experiencing new vicariously through them. It won't be my new. It will be their new. Thrilling of course. But not mine.

Where is my new? As an adult, how do we continue to experience new on a regular basis? Is it only through the accumulation of meaningless material possessions that new can remain in our lives? Perhaps that is why we continue to seek bigger, better, newer things. This is the only way we can bring the magic of new, the magic we experienced daily as children and teenagers, back into our adult lives.

Life now is so much more satisfying than it was as a teenager. I can honestly say that each day of my life is filled with more contentment and happiness than I ever experienced as a youth. The drama of the pre-teen and teenage years has not escaped my memory just yet. I don't miss those days at all. Maybe that is the trade-off. New disappears, but security and comfort are abundant.

Worth the trade, I suppose.

But I can't help bt mourn the loss of new.