A few days ago, my youngest turned 4. When she was born, her oldest brother had just turned 4 and her other brother was not yet 2. Needless to say, life was pretty chaotic during those first couple years of her life. Life is, of course, still busy – a different sort of busy – but it is safe to say that the baby/toddler years are behind us. And no one is happier about this than yours truly. Really.
I love that my children are more independent. I love that we all sleep through most nights. And I love that they can communicate with me using words instead of cries (well….most of the time). And yet…
Everyone once in a while, a wave of nostalgia washes over me (usually when I’m holding a small baby). It’s then that I remember that there are things about that baby/toddler phase that I actually miss – surprising things.
I miss the solitary, peaceful midnight feeds; that feeling that my baby and I were the only two in the world who were awake. I miss chubby arms around my neck, fearful of the world and refusing to let go. I even miss the whole-hearted way that each emotion was expressed – the pure joy as well as the pure rage that only a toddler can feel.
Yes, yes. Relax. I can hear your groans from here. I am aware of the rose-coloured glasses through which I am remembering. But those moments did exist…amid the exhaustion, the noise, and the messiness. They existed and now they are passed. And I miss them because I know they will never return.
I’m not about to tell you to ‘enjoy every minute’ you have with your young children. Every time a well-intentioned older lady stopped me in the grocery store or park to tell me this, I would feel guilt. I certainly did not appreciate each moment. In fact, I distinctly remember wishing away many of those moments. I think the trick is to recognize the ‘golden’ moments amid the chaos and maybe just pause a second to recognize them before they’re gone.
I’m trying to remember to do this. When I’m scrambling to finish lunches in the morning while practising spelling words with Thing1, watching Thing2 wipe up spilled OJ with his sleeve, I force myself to pause and notice the dopey girl in pjs entering the kitchen, smiling up at me with still sleepy eyes and bedhead. And at the end of the day, as I wearily watch the toothpaste get smeared across the bathroom counter and the waves of water splashing out of the tub, I try to notice the boy who is standing tall in front of the mirror, flexing his ‘muscles’. I know this stage will also pass soon enough and we’ll be on to the next one.
I’ll leave you with a phrase I came across years ago – one that has really stuck with me: The days are long but the years are short. True story if ever I’ve heard one:)
D.
(Ahhh…the after-dinner crazies. I actually miss this these days.)
