I Can’t Say It
It’s the trendy thing to say and I’m not saying it.
“Stop! Don’t grow up so fast.”
“Don’t grow up, little one.”
“Just stay little.”
“I can’t stand it. My baby is growing up!”
The currently in-the-little-kids-stage Mom version of the Mom with big kids who says forlornly, almost guilt producingly, “You’re going to miss these days. These are the best days of your life.”
It’s sweet, right? Mamas so enamored with their little ones they can’t bear to have the minutes of spit up and yellow blow outs come to an end.
But it’s not just the smell of yet another allergy poop diaper that’s making me feel snarky.
It’s a given that while I am prone to dramatics and over exaggeration (see what I did there?), I’m also brutally honest. I have moments when I think I can’t breathe because I love it so much. The smell of Bella’s head when she comes in from the swing and the scent of her sweet little self mixes with fresh air against my chin. The moments when I watch Zara twirling in her room because she loves her skirt and she looks at me and asks, “Why do people always smile at me?” I feel Liam pressed up against me on the couch as we wade through perimeters and quadrilaterals and practice mental Math and I know it won’t always be like this. Not even for much longer. Because I also watch his older brother. I have to look up at Adam now. We discuss things on adult levels and sometimes he’s the one initiating the hard questions instead of me. He takes the heavy load and I watch him in near disbelief when I get frustrated with something and he gently says, “here, Mom, let me do it. See, like this.”
If Bella would listen to me say that and stop growing up, I’d never get to watch her jump the bottom two steps of the stairway like Zara does. If Zara stopped, I’d never watch her face as I explain root words and the magic of comprehension wash over her like it did for Liam with “bio-” and “-ology” and the way we get zoology, geology, theology, and microbiology. Or the way he nearly bounced off the couch as it all sank in and he exclaimed as though I’d given him the world, “You are the best teacher! I’m getting smarter every day!” If Liam stopped I’d never get to look up to see his chocolate eyes or watch him take over the entire laundry day because he saw that I wasn’t going to get to it.
Sure three year old stinky feet are kind of cute and there isn’t one thing cute about baseball cleats coming off in the van (more like an instant exit strategy). There’s an indescribable preciousness about little people that I am going to miss so much when the tiny bubble blowers have all grown up. But, I absolutely love these days with nine and thirteen year old boys and I would have missed out on so much if they’d just stayed little. I refuse to believe this is the last time I’m going to have fun with them. Somehow, I think it’s just going to keep getting better.
I love these days. Sometimes I want to run away from these days. And that’s why I can’t say it. There are moments when I can hardly comprehend the magnitude of the miracle in my house that is so full of small and not so small humans. And there are days when I’m pretty sure I’ve laid down all of me there is to lay down and it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. Days when I’m selfishly tired of always laying down me.
These are the best days of my life. But you know what? I’ve had a love relationship with every stage in life so far and something tells me I’m not going to lose all the love when my babies grow up.
And probably if I’m honest, there’s a bit of knowledge tinged with grief mixed in with the way I can’t say those words. Because two of my babies didn’t make it past the first few weeks of gestation. They stopped growing up. They just stayed little. Friends of mine have a child with a handicap. He stopped growing up in the way we think of growing up. So the next time I hear it, I will hear your adoration for whatever stage you are in. Meanwhile, I’ll be over here kissing the last times goodbye because we have loved well and wildly cheering for the new stage about to begin.
I hear where you’re coming from, I could have written this post a few years ago. Right down to the part where I have babies in heaven, they didn’t get to continue growing.
I don’t like hearing people say:
““Stop! Don’t grow up so fast.”
“Don’t grow up, little one.”
“Just stay little.”
“I can’t stand it. My baby is growing up!””
Because I am glad my children are healthy and growing and progressing as they should, but I also get where the older women are coming from when they say “You’re going to miss this.”
Today, my oldest son is at his job. I’m proud of him. He’ll come home with stories about his day. We will talk and laugh at the dinner table. I am enjoying this part of his growing up. At the same time we’re having freezing rain right now. The road he’ll be driving home on is filled with curves, deep ditches, steep banks where he could slide off the road and tumble down the mountain side. Some parts have guard rails, some doesn’t. On days like this I miss having him safely at home playing with his farm set, or reading his favorite book for the umpteenth time.
As I set the table with four plates for lunch instead of six. I miss the days when we were all gathered around the table. Yes, I’m loving the people my children have grown to be. This is a great time of life. But there are things I miss.
I’m thankful I spent so much time with my children when they were younger. I can’t imagine having them grow up, and leave, and be left with regrets of wasted time that I could have spent working, playing, teaching, and simply living with them.
As our house continues to become emptier, I’ll be right there cheering them on. Loving life, enjoying spending time with them when ever I can, but I also know there are things I will miss.
I don’t like hearing mother’s complain about any stage of their children’s life. Truly it’s all a gift. I think what the older women are saying when they say, “You’re going to miss this,” is to slow down, enjoy this time. You only get these days once. Treat them as precious because there are no do overs.
I used to think I’d never say you’re going to miss this, because every new stage is still good. And it is. But that doesn’t mean you won’t miss things from previous stages.
I have no doubt that I will miss some of the things about having little kids the same way I look forward to some things about them being older. It’s a two way street. But that isn’t what I was referring to. It’s the sentiment that “these are the best days of my life” said in a way that means it all goes downhill from here. I think women in my stage have literally been guilted into feeling as though they cannot possibly enjoy the moment enough because it’s all sorrow and heartache from here on out to the point where they aren’t enjoying it for fear they’re not enjoying it enough. Or they’re almost living in fear of what is to come if this is the end of the good days. I know I’ll miss it. That’s why I take so many pictures and write so many words. Missing is the price you pay for having enjoyed. That’s different from regret. From discontent. From refusing to embrace the good things about the stage of life you are in. It sounds like you are living life well!
So well written and so very true. Thanks for giving me a fresh perspective today on growing sons. I needed it.
Amen! This is beautiful! My firstborn turned 16 yesterday. We celebrated, he and I, with getting his license, eating breakfast out, and setting up a checking account. I spent a long time the night before, poring over old photos of him. But I love this stage. Watching him become a man, assume responsibility, make decisions and spread his wings. I’m with you. We treasure the memories forever and we embrace the now, as well.
Oh fun!