One day rolls into the next with all the laundry, dishes and toy picking up.
So sometimes we are caught off guard when dailiness turns into yearly-ness.
Wasn't it just yesterday that Jack was starting pre-school?
How is he going to be 8?
Wasn't Will just toddling around the side of the house to eat green tomatoes of off the vine?
How did he just lose his first tooth?
Isn't Addie my baby?
How can he do puzzles and count to 20 (10...11....12...14...17...20) and open doors
Both Addison and Jack have birthdays this week.
And somehow the dailiness of mothering, the ins and outs of diapering and washing clothes and rocking babies has segued into correcting math problems and learning to sound out blends like st- and tr- and riding bikes with no training wheels.
Somehow my babies have turned into boys.
And you think I would rejoice about this because for 8 years I have thought,
"Oh my Lord, I can't wait til they are out of diapers."
And yet on the cusp of this new season of boy-dom I find myself thinking,
"What will I do without a little one?"
Because I am psycho like that. It's this thing that sits in my gut and says,
They are changing. Every day these boys are becoming more of who they are.
And this time of babies and craziness and sweetness is ending.
Of course, this all points to the piercing truth that they are becoming independent.
Which is all at once fantastic and terrible.
Just writing this makes me want to take to my bed.
No one takes to their bed these days because we are too busy but I think we should bring it back like the 90's brought back bell bottoms.
Because I need some time to process all this change
and tucked under a quilt would be a nice place to do it.
I need some time to grieve the family that I am losing.
The family that had baby teeth and stayed home with me and needed cuddles every day.
And then I need some time to figure out how to fully enjoy this new family
we are becoming.
The family that does not require a diaper bag or rigid napping schedules or sippy cups.
I love Sara Groves' song, Small Piece of You,
on her Station Wagon: Songs for New Parents album.
She sings to her infant son saying,
I just want a small piece of you, something to put in my pocket.
and then goes on to say
I hope that you go see the world. I hope that you take flight.
But please, please, please, don't forget to write.
Don't forget to write your mother, don't forget to write.
Because it echoes the juxtaposition that I feel in my soul.
Yes, by all means, get big....but don't ever leave me.
Okay, leave me because that's healthy and even though I am clearly not healthy
since I am so conflicted, I would like you to be healthy....
but don't forget how much I love you and that I poured out my life for you on a daily basis for years and years...and years.
No pressure, boys.
As you can see, clearly I am wreck and not just because I have to make cupcakes 4 times this week (2 school parties, 2 family parties).
(Just think how wacked out I'll be when they ACTUALLY leave home...
sweet mercy...let's not think of it.)
So bear with me in my fragile emotional state.
My boys are getting big.