Turn-Turn-Turn
Yesterday Cricket and I went out shopping. As we headed into the first grocery store, a man stopped us in the parking lot and commented on Cricket. Yes, he's that cute. He looked at everything in the grocery store. He was awake and alert at the second store too. He loves Trader Joes, but I know that there'll be hell to pay later after all that over stimulation. He didn't let me down. But think about this: he's looking around at everything. Everything.
As we drove home with the windows open and I heard his little peeps from the backseat, I just started crying. And crying. And crying. The thing is, Cricket at (almost) three months is just so different from newborn Cricket. I'm so pleased he's growing and getting so much stronger. I want to have a sturdy boy, but oh my God. My newborn is not a newborn anymore. He looks more like a little boy every day.
And he's growing up. Why does this make me cry all over again? My little pup. One of our favorite things to do is take a bath. He loves the bath. And I love taking the bath with him. Someday it will be inappropriate for me to be in the bath with him, but I'll still supervise. And then someday after that, it won't be right for me to be there at all when he cleans himself. And all the little parts I take such care with now, cleaning him, massaging his lovely chubby legs-- I won't even see those parts. They won't be mine to see. How can my little boy ever get that big?
Sometimes I think we live so in the moment of parenting, we forget the aim. We obsess about getting him to sleep. Cleaning the laundry. Going to the doctor. Packing the diaper bag. Did we read enough to him today? Did he get adequate tummy time? Why is he crying? Should we get him out for a walk? Is it too cold? Too hot? Why (oh why oh why) won't he nap? And all those questions we ask ourselves, we forget about the larger meaning behind them. Why do I want to read to him? Why is it important he gets tummy time? I want to make all those neural connections and get him strong so he'll keep growing into a strapping little lad, and then into a well built man. It's the goal, per se, of motherhood and the fact that he's growing means we're doing our job.
The motherhood lark is a new type of job, eh? Because I desperately want to do a good job, but I'm so sad at the same time I'm happy to see it being done. I look forward to all the things we have in front of us, and there's so much. But then I think of the pile of clothes stacked upstairs in the bedroom. I try to put an outfit on him "one last time" before it retires. I can remember when these same clothes didn't fit him and he was swimming in them. It seemed he'd never fill out the smallest of onsies. And now he's bursting out of them. Pant legs that were once too long now only come to his knees. We might, with the help of God, have another child to wear some of these clothes once more, but Cricket will never again wear them. And while it's always happy to see the season turn, there's a certain sadness as we turn into the sun knowing the turning will continue until the day Cricket walks off on his into that same sun. And then I'm sure we'll watch with pride just as I'm sure as our tears fall.
As we drove home with the windows open and I heard his little peeps from the backseat, I just started crying. And crying. And crying. The thing is, Cricket at (almost) three months is just so different from newborn Cricket. I'm so pleased he's growing and getting so much stronger. I want to have a sturdy boy, but oh my God. My newborn is not a newborn anymore. He looks more like a little boy every day.
And he's growing up. Why does this make me cry all over again? My little pup. One of our favorite things to do is take a bath. He loves the bath. And I love taking the bath with him. Someday it will be inappropriate for me to be in the bath with him, but I'll still supervise. And then someday after that, it won't be right for me to be there at all when he cleans himself. And all the little parts I take such care with now, cleaning him, massaging his lovely chubby legs-- I won't even see those parts. They won't be mine to see. How can my little boy ever get that big?
Sometimes I think we live so in the moment of parenting, we forget the aim. We obsess about getting him to sleep. Cleaning the laundry. Going to the doctor. Packing the diaper bag. Did we read enough to him today? Did he get adequate tummy time? Why is he crying? Should we get him out for a walk? Is it too cold? Too hot? Why (oh why oh why) won't he nap? And all those questions we ask ourselves, we forget about the larger meaning behind them. Why do I want to read to him? Why is it important he gets tummy time? I want to make all those neural connections and get him strong so he'll keep growing into a strapping little lad, and then into a well built man. It's the goal, per se, of motherhood and the fact that he's growing means we're doing our job.
The motherhood lark is a new type of job, eh? Because I desperately want to do a good job, but I'm so sad at the same time I'm happy to see it being done. I look forward to all the things we have in front of us, and there's so much. But then I think of the pile of clothes stacked upstairs in the bedroom. I try to put an outfit on him "one last time" before it retires. I can remember when these same clothes didn't fit him and he was swimming in them. It seemed he'd never fill out the smallest of onsies. And now he's bursting out of them. Pant legs that were once too long now only come to his knees. We might, with the help of God, have another child to wear some of these clothes once more, but Cricket will never again wear them. And while it's always happy to see the season turn, there's a certain sadness as we turn into the sun knowing the turning will continue until the day Cricket walks off on his into that same sun. And then I'm sure we'll watch with pride just as I'm sure as our tears fall.
Labels: Growing Up
posted by Katie at 5:38 PM
5 Comments:
I had to put away some outgrown clothes last week, and it killed me. I know how you feel. How did my baby get to be 3 months old already? I'm happy, but I'm overwhelmed, too, because the time just seems to fly by faster and faster. I feel your pain, sister.
I'm so with you on these feelings. My boy is now 5 and I look at him and cry also. I miss my little one. I tell him all the time about when he would only sleep on my chest and stuff like that. Do you have a journel written just to him? I started a letter as soon as I found out I was preggers. I keep writing to him so when he gets older and hits the "you don't love me stage" I can print the letter out and he can see how much I love him. They do grow up so fast!!
When I really look at Charlie after he is asleep is when it gets me. During the day, he's up and running and being a boy and I don't see it all. But at night, with him stretched out across our bed, is when I realize that my baby has become a child. He's so big, but still so little. It used not to matter what position he slept in, now we need to move him just to get into bed at night. He's getting so big it's hard to maneuver him into his car seat in my car, but in only 2 pounds we won't even be able to have him RF any more (cue panic attack). We've moved from 3-6 months to 3t and even 4t sometimes. We've gone from a child in so much pain and sadness to a healthy little boy who can't stop laughing.
I want him to grow up so badly, but I wish I could just keep him little.
Oh I can so relate to the clothes being put away. Last week I was putting more away in the under crib Rubbermaid and I burst into tears because her "Up to 5 lbs" sleeper and hat that she came home from the hospital in was sitting in the top. (I thought I put it in her memory box, apparently I blew that, glad it caught it before we went to the consignment store next week). I burst into tears. My 2 lb 5 oz teeny tiny fragile infant, is now a 25 lb furniture cruising babbling monster in such a short time. Part of me wishes to have this past year back... but I don't want all the appointments that went with it. Just give me that tiny baby with no wires and let me cuddle... instead of pushing me away so you can go back to terrorizing the cat..
Oh I KNOW! I had no clue three months would be so different! It goes way too fast.
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