It's been a somber week spent mostly in my head and in the past, catching up the twins' baby books, baby scrapbooks, and ongoing family picture albums. Thirteen months worth of events, faces, thoughts, emotions to remember and write about, trying to leave no detail to the eraser-hand of time.Each memory of my little boy seemed to just make me more sad. I've lived the year at home with him, but I feel like I've missed it! When did Wyatt make this huge transformation from the pudgy-cheeked onesie-wearing baby with whispy curls like a halo around his head last September to the slim big boy wearing underwear, shorts, and chewed-on t-shirts that he put on himself?
Not quite a big boy. Not a baby either. A toddler...whatever that means. He'll be 3 before the year is out.
In one corner of the room is my big boy: potty trained. Independent play. Huge vocabulary. Vivid imagination. Love of complex books. Face morphing into my husband's face with every photo.
And then in the opposing corner is my little boy: A kiss for every bump. Mommy needed to watch and do everything. Fall-out tantrums and defiance. Hugs and kisses and snuggles so close that air can't get between us.
Wyatt has spent the past week skipping back and forth over the chasm that separates his "little boy" and "big boy" identities. He wants to be both and neither.
One minute, he cries "Mommy!?" when I get out of sight, howls at his daddy who tells him mommy needs a few minutes to take a bath by herself, shrieks "Mine!" when a baby takes a toy, gouges Oma's table with an inky line drawn around it's circular surface, tells daddy "I want to go home" when he's told he must apologize to Oma, and tells me "I a baby" as he snuggles close for some love.
And the next moment, he bounces up and down in a hurry to leave me for work on the hay baler with Opa, buckles himself into his car seat with no fuss, sets the dining room table without breaking anything, and comes to tell me, "I play with the babies. I laughin'" only to then bounce off down the hall where laughter fills the house, three different pitches of giggles streaming over the baby monitors as Wyatt laughs to the twins' delight.
Right now, he's only flirting with this transformation. But, I know one day soon, long before I'm ready, he'll quit stepping back and forth over this invisible line and walk away from it.
Stay a little while longer, my dear son. Let me tell you more about Jesus, about how mommy and daddy love you just like you are. There's so much I want to teach you now while you'll still listen to me.
Just let me enjoy this version of you before it's outdated and you are upgraded to Toddler 3.0.
You got me! I'm crying.
ReplyDeleteYour words are so beautiful. So true. My little Sophie will be upgrading to Toddler 3.0 this coming Saturday. I love that--Toddler 3.0.
You penned my emotions perfectly. Oh how they are stirring within me. We are not alone in this parenting thing, are we?
So I feel completely comfortable asking you to pray for me this week as this milestone day approaches. I've struggled with all manner of regret lately. And we both know that camping out there will serve no purpose.
I want to press forward, learning from my past mistakes determined to allow Him to work in me more.
And I want to enjoy those moments that pass by so quickly.
HELP! I need prayer desperately!
This is so beautiful, Jennifer.
ReplyDeleteMy three babies are now grown up. And I miss them.
Reading this post made my heart ache. You put my own thoughts down in writing.
And yet, looking at my own grown children fills me with amazement. How responsible they have grown! Capable of living life on their own. No longer depending on me, but on God.
There have been times when my own children have become a shoulder for me to lean on. Especially now that their father is no longer around.
I have felt their care ... wanting to be there for me.
This, too is so heartwarming.
They have become my best friends.
Enjoy your babies... every minute ... while you can still hold them close.
Love you,
Lidj