A Mother's Lament

A funny thing is occurring in our family at the moment. Today is my daughter's 1,000th day of life. In a few days I will reach my 10,000th day of life. And within the past two weeks, my husband has reached his 10,000th day and my baby reached 100 days old. That means, for this brief period of time, Kevin is ten times older than her brother and we, as her parents, are ten times older than her.

That's a lot of math for an English major...so let me tell you how this translates into words and feelings.

Yesterday I was snuggling with my sick little baby and watching Peter Pan Live! while Scott took Kevin Christmas shopping so she could pick out a present for me. 

Side note: I asked her what kind of present she was going to get me. She, of course, answered "Purple!" because everything is purple these days. I told her I would like a book. She told me she would get me a purple book. Seeing this as an opportunity to give her father another clear hint at something I really want for Christmas (the Dr. Seuss collection found at Sam's Club), I told her I would really like a "Cat in the Hat" book. A few hours later, after Scott had already loaded her into his car, he peeked his head back through the door and accused me of planting ideas in our daughter's head. "I just asked her what she wanted to get you and she said a Cat in the Hat book!" Good job, baby girl.

As I snuggled with my little man, watching the beginning of the story of the boy who never wanted to grow up, I thought about what a paradox growing up is--at least in the eyes of a mother. You want your children to grow healthy and strong, to learn and to overcome and to become successful contributors to the world. You can't wait to see what they make of the talents that you can see budding in them now. Part of you is excited for the day when you take your adult daughter out to lunch and hear her talk about her life (the same life that used to be yours, twenty-some-odd years ago). Part of you can't wait to see your son helping his dad with home improvement projects, dressed in a tux for Prom, offering to reach the things in the high-up kitchen cupboards that you can't get, even on your tippy-toes. 

What wonderful moments those will be!

And yet...

There is a part, and it is no small piece, of your heart that wishes they could stay little forever. You can't imagine the day when you can no longer pick her up or he no longer grabs fistfuls of your hair as you lean down to blow raspberries on his tummy. You want to always hear her little voice singing her own version of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and hear him cooing at angels when he first wakes up. You don't want to have to put another pile of barely-worn baby clothing in a too small pile, or break it to her that her favorite sparkle shoes no longer fit. You don't want to think about the day that she starts school or he no longer needs you to carry him from room to room, though you know those days aren't far off.

Your arms are tired, your shoulders weary, your head aches from all the screaming and crying, your feet are calling out for a rest, your eyes are fighting to stay open, and your heart...your heart doesn't want it to ever end.

In the beginning of Peter Pan, there is a line that goes something like this:

"All children grow up. They start to realize this at about age two. You might say, therefore, that two is the beginning of the end for children."

A truer statement has never been spoken.

Kevin's favorite thing to talk about is how she is getting old. Sometimes she will ask to do something and I will tell her that she'll be able to do it when she is a little bigger. Then she will look at me with a big smile on her face and say, "Wook at me! Wook at me growin!" 

Yes, sweetheart, I see you growing.

Then, to add salt to the wound, she will point to her brother and say, "Wook! Wook! He's growin too!"

It's a strange thing to notice, when you spend every day with your children. You are so wrapped up in their lives and involved in their growing, that you don't notice that something has changed until a grandmother points it out or you show off one of their new tricks. To her kindergarten teacher grandmother: "Look how she can count to ten!" To his strong Papa: "Look how he tries to sit up!" To her seamstress grandmother: "Look how tall she has gotten, all of her dresses are so short!" To his playful Pa: "Look how he smiles so big!"

And, in a way, though I am well into my twenties now, there is still a small piece of that two-year-old in me that is still telling my parents to "Wook at me growin!"

And, to our parents, there is still that piece of their heart that begs time to slow down and let me stay young just a little longer.