Mommy's Growing Pains
All about:
growth,
leaving babyhood behind,
milestones
Today Woog pulled his trolley bag out of my grasp and trundled off with it towards the gates of his preschool. He paused a bit to adjust the lever that lengthens the handlebars, then sped off with nary a glance back at his bereft mother. I watched him through suddenly misty vision as he greeted teachers and schoolmates like a seasoned politician, forgetting our ritual goodbye kiss. Wuv-wuv, Mom, he waved as an afterthought, treating me to the terribly achey sight of his disappearing back.
Off to conquer the world
Soon, he isn't going to want me around at all. This thought sent me misting up all over again, and pasting a gloriously fake quivering smile on my chops, I hastily left. Wouldn't do for his friends to see his mother blubbering like a demented loon now, would it? Wouldn't want to embarass my son on the first day of school.
Such an emotionally distressing day. And it isn't even 9 o'clock.
Earlier, I woke with a start to find Eli silently climbing over me, one leg over my prone self, eyes fixed determinedly on his goal - the floor an alarming two-foot drop down. Blood pressure shooting up, I squawked and snagged the back of his shirt before he dove face-first to his noggin-shattering doom.
He yowled in shrill protest, his first sound of the day, this 11-month old who used to wake me with insistent burrowing noises on my breast, or laughing slaps of his beefy little hands on my tummy.
Why are my babies trying to leave me?
It amazes me how everyday they move forward with time at such amazing speeds. It seems I merely have to blink, and suddenly they've flitted beyond the grasp of my understanding, leaving me panting to catch up to the different persons they've become, practically overnight.
Oh, I know that change is bound to happen. Babies grow up and out of their mother's arms. I understand the concept completely. It's the cold hard reality that's so hard to accept. Reminds me of that cheesy 80's song I often hear murdered in videoke bars everywhere, The Winds of Change; and when that wind comes in, my kids speed along its updrafts, while I get buffeted about in their slipstream, bewildered and totally lost.
Perhaps this is the reality for decrepit parents everywhere. For us, the passage of time is marked by pains that are suddenly sharper, aches that go deeper into the bone, and children who are suddenly beyond our reach, grown out of babyhood before we've even began to fully savor them.
I would like to rewind the days and have multiple repeats of all the heart-fattening moments I've spent with my boys, but I do realize they have to make their own way, with or without me. Quite likely, without me. Because as much as I am able to, I will be dragging my heels in protest at this relentless forward motion. Til they shake off this ancient clinging barnacle that is their mother.
Earlier, I woke with a start to find Eli silently climbing over me, one leg over my prone self, eyes fixed determinedly on his goal - the floor an alarming two-foot drop down. Blood pressure shooting up, I squawked and snagged the back of his shirt before he dove face-first to his noggin-shattering doom.
He yowled in shrill protest, his first sound of the day, this 11-month old who used to wake me with insistent burrowing noises on my breast, or laughing slaps of his beefy little hands on my tummy.
Why are my babies trying to leave me?
It amazes me how everyday they move forward with time at such amazing speeds. It seems I merely have to blink, and suddenly they've flitted beyond the grasp of my understanding, leaving me panting to catch up to the different persons they've become, practically overnight.
Oh, I know that change is bound to happen. Babies grow up and out of their mother's arms. I understand the concept completely. It's the cold hard reality that's so hard to accept. Reminds me of that cheesy 80's song I often hear murdered in videoke bars everywhere, The Winds of Change; and when that wind comes in, my kids speed along its updrafts, while I get buffeted about in their slipstream, bewildered and totally lost.
Perhaps this is the reality for decrepit parents everywhere. For us, the passage of time is marked by pains that are suddenly sharper, aches that go deeper into the bone, and children who are suddenly beyond our reach, grown out of babyhood before we've even began to fully savor them.
I would like to rewind the days and have multiple repeats of all the heart-fattening moments I've spent with my boys, but I do realize they have to make their own way, with or without me. Quite likely, without me. Because as much as I am able to, I will be dragging my heels in protest at this relentless forward motion. Til they shake off this ancient clinging barnacle that is their mother.
Sigh.
I didn't mean that last part, of course. Quite likely a by-product of an emotionally rending day. Much as it pains me to do so, I will be the first one to encourage them to spread their wings, and the last one to pick them up when they fall. With pain, after all, there is growth.
Fly away, my babies. Mommy bird will be here at the nest waiting for any visit you will be generous enough to bestow upon her. I'll stock the pantry with worms. Promise.
