All Growed Up

I am not good at this growing up stuff. I am really not. Besides my higher than average degree of Mother worry I think it is my downfall of mothering. I hate to see them grow up. And yet,
I love it.

Little signs have been coming more regularly these days. I will notice Ben hop up and examine a skinned knee with pride before he gets his legs moving again without another thought. Wait...he needs me to kiss it!

"MOOOOOM" I hear from upstairs. Huh? whose that? I am Mommy.

The stroller is met with resistance now as a little boy would prefer to run up just ahead, with his baseball hat cocked to the side.

"I'll be outside, okay?" I was informed yesterday evening as I was making dinner.
And he was. I peeked out the back window to watch him take the lid off his sandbox and engage in some very independent dump truck play. But aren't I suppose to be beside you, in my chair, reading a magazine and listening to your incessant babble...because you can't do anything without me...right???

I felt a little hand drop out of mine on our walk the other day and was informed that "I only hold hands on the ROAD". Oh.

"Can Ben come over and play?" The five year old next door asked. Jon and I looked at each other in the backyard...um no. He is two...he goes on parent accompanied play dates and gets his toast cut in 6 small pieces. He is a BABY! We scurried into the house and realized we are entering into previously untapped parenting territory, with friends, and bikes and whole apples with the skin on... our baby isn't a baby. The neighbour had to tell us.


My baby is a boy.

I love seeing this bit of him, his fierce independence and confidence. His nature maturing and personality blooming. Fortunately for my Mommy heart he still has fears and insecurities and a hungry tummy sometimes that only a "Mom" can remedy. Maybe he always will? Regardless of his natural progression in a direction that is opposite of the one I am in I still have bits to cling to for now that I know need to be stored away to savor when they are gone. I look forward to the body melt hugs when he collapses into me with no hesitation, no awkwardness and rests as though it is the most comfortable place in the world. It is.

Sometimes I see him looking at me, in just a way that no one else ever has. I can SEE how much he loves me. There is something about it that stops me in my tracks, makes me acknowledge who I am to him, reminds me to be deserving of that look. I hope he sees the same when I look at him. Because that will never change.

Excuse me while I go squeeze some dimpled fat 4 month old thighs... I need a baby fix...and a pause button.