I just realized that my kids are growing up.
It just occurred to me last week when my 5 year old turned to his daddy and said, “Dad, where can I find a woman?”
That startled me into the reality of the passage of time.
As I pondered, it occurred to me that my emotions weren’t saddened or remorseful of the years gone by. I found myself feeling – lighter, a bit relieved. Moms aren’t supposed to say this but I’ve gotta come clean: my boys are growing up and I’m glad. Jackson, our oldest just turned seven. Jerry Jr (who we call JC) is five, and Jude just had his first birthday! (Wow, that was a pretty fast year.) All of my friends with older kids have assured me that the time passes so fast. But overall that hasn’t been my experience. Each day seemed to drag on for eternity when they were little guys. Runny noses, dirty diapers, the crying . . . O my . . .
So, it appears that I’m not the kind of mom who loses sleep over my babies getting older, wishing that they’d fit into their 12mo size onsie for just one more month, or longing for them to cling to the hem of my skirt instead of going into the Sunday school class I’m trying to drop them off at. Nope. Motherhood seems to fit me better when they are, well, bigger.
I don’t feel as rushed and hurried with a seven, five and one year old as I did when the first two were 3 months and two. Life was just a blurr for me during those times. Now, Jerry and I are rediscovering each other; actually having a relationship that involves more than just drilling each other with questions about who did what.
My mother-in-law, fabulous woman that she is, gasped and frowned when I mentioned being excited that Jude’s first year was almost over. She said that she wished he’d keep those fat thighs and that wobbly-kneed, unsure walk forever. HMMMM, it’s cute and I’ve enjoyed it for the most part but . . . I’M OVER IT! While I’ve tried to drink in every moment with each of my boys, the baby stage – I admit it – wears me out. I don’t think I’ll miss the exhaustion I feel during the day because I haven’t slept at night. I don’t know if I’ll mourn the loss having to find a hollow spot in a bathroom far away from the festivities, or ducking down below the window on the driver side of the car so as not to expose myself when I nurse a wee one. While I’ve loved the tender midnight moments and have thoroughly enjoyed the first year I spent nursing each son, I feel a tinge of excitement about moving on to tackle the next leg of the journey. I’m just one of those women who likes talking to them when they can talk back to me. I like seeing their minds engage in my instruction. I especially like being able to say “go get in bed” or “go to the potty” and know they can do it all by themselves.
Yup, the babies years have been fun, but we’re moving on at the Shirer household. I know that older kids bring bigger challenges. I’m believing God to help us tackle them when they arrive.
Hope there’s at least one other mommy out there who understands and hollers “AMEN, SISTER”!
PS I’ve got more (tired but fun) thoughts on motherhood here!