Children are not children for very long.Motherhood is such a push-pull between wanting stages to pass and simultaneously last till the end of time. Naps with baby interrupted by a fussy baby’s protest of that same nap. The slip slap of feet on the kitchen floor as the dimpled bottom of a giggling and naked toddler runs away before you can get the diaper on only for them to hide and do their business behind a closet door. The hugs and kisses after a meltdown. And so it goes through parenting young children. You want a lot of it to pass quickly, but not at the sacrifice of the sweet moments that can only come connected at the hip with the bad stuff.
Even from go, you earned the name “The Teenager” because of your seemingly mature mannerisms. Fluctuating personalities and quirks similar to a 2 year old tot, a teenage boy, and an 80 year old man, I could see you growing before my very eyes, as also evidenced by the rapid pace at which we had to replace your clothes with bigger sizes.Last night you confessed that you knew the truth about Santa, and as your father broke the news to me, a part of my heart broke into a million pieces. Not because we’ve been found out, but because of what it all represents. You don’t believe, and so I have to question if that season of the year will be as magical for you. For every mature reality you begin to accept, more and more of the innocence of your youth seems to fade. You’ll be 10 in a couple of months and this fact weighs on my heart because it’s unfamiliar territory and full of scary challenges. Some you’ll have to experience on your own and some you don’t need to experience on your own, but you’ll be hard pressed to ask for our help.
We spend so much time as babies are babies and then toddlers and preschoolers just preoccupied with trying to survive and perhaps teach you important life lessons in the mix of all the chaos. We’re so busy washing hands, wiping noses, and tying shoes that it’s easy to get distracted by the fact that time is passing. And before we know it, we’ve returned from taking another kid to the bathroom to find that you’ve gone and grown up again. Kind of like getting lost in conversation with a friend and the hours pass too quickly to even hear the clock tick by. We look up and our breath gets caught in our throat as we wonder if we remembered to tell you this thing or that thing and terrified that we were so caught up in the detail that we never saw the forest for all of the trees.At the same time of your confession, you are showing us a level of maturity that reassures us that you just might be okay despite our preoccupation with the daily comings and goings of life. You almost relish in the fact that you know a mature truth and you cannot dare spoil the secret for your younger brothers. Like the Cheshire cat, you grin at knowing you are older now and therefore, want to prove to us that you are responsible.
You make us so proud every single day. In some way or another.
But I’m just so sad. Because it starts with one and before I know it, the other two will have grown up on me too.
Life is so hectic with 3 young children, but it’s so much fun. I have all these boys that fill my life up with chaos and hilarity that not many other people understand. I feel like I’m part of a very exclusive club open by invitation only. It’s so cool and yet, so insane at the same time.
So, you know. And I suppose I knew it was coming sooner or later, but I just didn’t want it to happen so soon.
As they say, the days are long, but the years are short.
Very, very short.