Last week, I celebrated my 12th year of motherhood. That's one third of my life.

As tough as it's been to be a parent, I've been thinking that the 12 years before I became a mother were even harder.

Sixth grade was the last great year of school. It was the last year of recess. For me, that meant it was the last year of jump rope, hopscotch and dodge ball.

I held hands with a boy for the first time and haven't known a relationship as pure since.

As 12-year-olds, we were fearless. We'd rollerskate down big hills, knowing full well that the only way to stop would be to crash into the grass and tumble head over heels until we finally came to rest. We'd sled the same hill, using trees for brakes, or ride our bikes at top speed to shoot across the street at the bottom, risking our lives every time. It didn't occur to us we weren't invincible.

We'd stretch boundaries, stretch curfews, stretch all the limits that were put on us. It was 1984, but we didn't care who was watching.

It was the last year I'd be sure of myself for a long, long time.

It was the Year of the Rat.

It would be another rat year before I really knew who I was again. It wasn't because I had any great epiphany. I just had a green-eyed child who pulled me out of my self-absorption. There was no way he was going to let me be happy unless I took care of his needs first. Lucky for him, I was happy to do it.

I'm convinced that the best thing that ever happened to me was having the center of my universe shifted to my child (later children) because somehow even the worse days are better because of them.

Anyone with a kid in double-digits knows that the worst days can be pretty bad. As parents we can't help but try to hold on, even as our kids use us to shove off in the opposite direction. But even as they pull away, they expect us to take care of their "needs" before they'll give us peace.

As I watch my brand-new 12-year-old, I'm reminded so much of myself that it sometimes scares me. Not only am I constantly wondering what he's gotten himself into, I'm also pondering what I'm in for.

I have faith, though. If he's really like me, it'll cycle around again.