My Baby is Not a Baby Anymore

I'm watching you, mommies of toddlers. I know it's hard.  It's still hard. Things change, but it doesn't get any easier.

I watch you - with a twinge of envy.  They are so cute.  From their mouths come the most delicious thoughts. And, they keep you on your feet. They're little.  They don't yet know who they are yet or how this world works.  They are curious and sweet and devilish - all in one moment.

It struck me this afternoon - as my 13-year old sauntered by me.  He is taller than me, filling out, and soon (I hope ;) to weigh more than me.  He's not feeling well.  During the past two days of not feeling well, he's calling me "mommy" and asking me to do things for him that I have not had to do in years.

In fact, my 7-year old baby is probably "older" than your 7 year-old big kid. She's been making her own breakfast all year (not on the stove, but she fends for herself).  Her view is "altered" from having three older brothers.  My baby is no longer a baby.

I have noticed things disappearing along the way.  Like having to buckle their seat belts.  And pouring milk or filling water cups for them.  I watch them pick up their own clothes off the floor (No, that's a lie. They still can't do that without a - several - reminders). They don't need me to stick around at play dates or keep a watchful eye on them at the park.

Now, I spend moments at the park pretending not to watch them as I observe how they interact with their friends, each other, and the world around them.

Today, my 13-year old is having a conversation with me about how to treat this nasty cold and sore throat he has going on.  I've made some suggestions, we've talked about if he needs to visit the doctor, and he has decided how he wants to proceed. It's strange to watch him through this new lens.

I was at the park yesterday with our incoming kindergarten families. I felt so old - for the first time in my life. I never feel old.  I like my aging years and am proud of them. But, I am in the next phase of living, and it struck me.

I'm not going to tell you to cherish the time that you have or to appreciate toddler tantrums.  I'm not going to tell you that it passes so quickly nor to make sure you are paying attention to every detail.  I cannot possibly tell you that it gets easier or even that "they'll grow out of it". Sometimes, they don't.

It is what it is.  It's all good.  It's a lot of difficult.  It's motherhood.