I was never a baby mom. I tried to heed the advice to “cherish each moment”, and succeeded most of the time. But sometimes in the dailiness, joy was elusive. And then came another, and another, and another. The moments were precious; still they flew by.
Now my baby is five. He plays chess, and wrestles, and sets the table, and reads, and takes showers, and doesn’t need a pull up even for bed anymore.
The black fuzzy book that holds years of silly sayings, toddler-speak, and milestones, that we take out on each birthday and giggle through, hasn’t seen a new entry in a long time.
Snuggling on the couch recently, we watched some home videos from years ago and I had this aching in my gut. I feel sure that I’ve missed something. Many “somethings”.
I didn’t mean to.
But growing up happens, and I can’t keep the sand from slipping through my fingers nor can I keep my children to last year’s mark on the basement wall.
It hurts and it’s beautiful, all at the same time.
So if you know how to cherish the moments, and not still ache as they pass, drop me a line, would you?
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