I am so proud of how your growing, but allow me to grieve that growth a little.
From the moment my kids were born I was hooked. Obsessed with their gazes, awaiting their night time feeds. In fact I may have woken them purposely from time to time to hold them and stare in a state of awe and pure love. I forfeited the “Sleep while the baby sleeps Ashley,” just so I could obsess over their sweet new faces. I am in love with being a mother. It is the most important thing in my life, and giving them certain things I never had, and instilling into them self love and knowing their worth is my goal.
I was infatuated with the baby phase. Their smells, their coos, their feeds, their little first’s that spewed a reaction as though they had walked on the moon. To me they did. To me they always will.
The birthday’s have approached faster, and I just need to put the breaks on slightly. In my case I’d like to slam on them. I can’t. I know. Time doesn’t work that way, and although I am fully aware of this, some days are harder than others. I grieve the growth. I know I’m not alone in that, at least I’d like to think not. Those facebook memories flood our feeds like the tide coming up onto the shore, more like crashing, and we can’t help to go back to that very moment when they first said “mama” or took those first steps. Oh how I miss that.
I still hold my 11 year old just as tight, my 4 year old crawls into bed at some point with me every night and that’s ok. He turns my king sized bed into a single without giving me an ounce of space, and yet I’ll suffer the tiredness just to feel his little legs on my back and his wee hands on my head. For it doesn’t last long. I can’t allow myself to yet part with his crib that collects dust in storage, and his high chair sits in my kitchen as I can fondly remember him singing in there daily while making a mess with his cheerios. That’s ok. I’m just not ready yet.
Now at 11 for my sweet girl, the more adult conversations have began. They are no longer how Elsa got her magical powers, or what made the world. Now they are questions that have me taking one extra breath, searching my brain for the most appropriate honest answers, and clicking Amazon for the most current book on “these” conversations. Praying I don’t screw it up.
As for my 4 year old, I’m dodging nerf darts, playing Hulk smash, answering every why question from the time the sun comes up until it escapes into the night, and watching his independence take over, and replying with ” No honey we don’t do that.”
I can understand how my parents must feel having a 40 year old daughter and a 45 year old son. I imagine the memories they share of me playing in my crib and my brother carrying me around our home are as vivid as yesterday. The time just goes. They were right. I feel that now. We just blinked, and that was it.
I am so proud of their growth, I cannot wait to see their lives unfold with strength and knowledge, and love. That being said, I will grieve it all the same and that’s ok.