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Loving 4-year-old Harmony is sometimes weighted by regrets.

A cranky baby and an eerily quiet toddler, Harmony has become a charming and gregarious preschooler.

She is known among adults as the child with the permanent smile and cheerful demeanor. Her blue eyes greet you first and the rest of her seems to follow.

I enjoy her more each day, delighting in this little person who lives with us. But with that delight is sorrow.

I did not take pleasure in her sister, 7-year-old Zoe, at this age. Instead, I was swathed in irritation from morning to night, annoyed by Zoe's 3- and 4-year old goofy shenanigans and endless needs - along with baby Harmony's refusal to sleep, nurse, grin or even babble.

If only the baby registry included patience and foresight.

Now when we're in the local shopping center and Harmony announces a need for the restroom, there are no frustrated sighs or harsh remonstrations from me. There is no baby to remove from the shopping cart or diaper bag to sling over my shoulder .

It's just me and two small kids. Going to the bathroom is easy as long as no one locks herself in a stall.

While Zoe is at school or at a friend's house, Harmony and I haul out my grandmother's plastic yellow mixing bowl and bake. Harmony reverently observes the proper way to crack an egg and cautiously stirs the batter, her little hand covered by mine.

She brings the same prudence to the laundry room, calmly placing each wet item that I hand her into the dryer. She is not intoxicated by her mother's attention. There is no need to act silly to stay in my sights. No baby is in the next room screaming. No one needs a warm bottle or clean clothing.

It's just us.

But in many ways, it is not. Though Zoe is absent, pursuing a life that does not always include us, she is still there. I can see her little preschooler self, asking to paint, cook or play Candy Land.

After all, Harmony is a close physical replica of Zoe. She's wearing Zoe's old clothes and has the same hairstyle.

It's almost as if the ghost of Zoe is with us, reminding me of what I did not or could not do for her. And my heart aches for what I have lost, for preschooler Zoe is gone, unappreciated by me.

All I can do is cherish this current time with my children and be thankful that at last I can finally see what is right in front of me.

The present.

Janice Carmac is an editorial assistant at the News & Record. She can be reached at janice.carmac@news-record.com or 373-7098.