When I held a friend's newborn baby a couple weeks ago, I expected to get the urge to want another tiny bundle of my own.

But, that urge never came. Instead, I was grateful that I wasn't going to be the one suffering through sleepless nights, dirty diapers and toilet training.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed holding the little guy. I breathed in that wonderful baby smell. I fingered his tiny toes. I let his itty bitty fingers curl around my index finger. And, I'll be the first one to take him out of Jen's hands whenever I see them, but I now know, for certain, that my baby days are behind me.

Two is enough. My husband had long said that -- since the LDR with daughter #2 if I remember correctly, but...I wasn't so sure.

Now I am.

At 35, I know that I should never say never. We might decide at 39 that we want another child. I highly doubt that though. Older children mean more freedom. With the girls becoming less dependent on us already, my husband and I have gotten glimpses of our life before kids. Back when we had free time, personal hobbies and a lot more disposable income.

But, on days like yesterday -- when the girls graduated from preschool -- I can't help but miss my baby girls. Next year, Kelly will be off to Kindergarten and I hear time travels even faster there.

Much as I enjoy the freedoms that come with my kids getting older, I long to hold my babies again. But, not so much that I want to have another.

Two kids are enough. I just wish they'd stop growing up so fast.