light and love

02 Sep light and love

The dawn is just edging its way past our white curtains, and already I hear them. Thunder roaring down the hall. They tumble into our bed and vie for the best spot. If I’m lucky, they won’t fight for me. One will nuzzle beneath my chin and the other drape across Kris’ broad chest. And together we’ll snooze another 20 minutes.
But today, I can tell, they’re too awake, giggling and unable to settle.

“Smell my feet, Mom,” she says, and I crack one eye open to see pea-size toes staring me down. And yes, they do smell. I tell her so. She responds with big, heaving belly laughs.
When did this happen? Babies don’t act like this. Kids do. It’s sad that those toes are less kissable than they once were.
Another foot whacks me in the ear. “Smell. Feet, Mama. Smell.” His are not much sweeter. But his breath is. I pull him close and accept a sloppy kiss on the lips.
Kris grumbles. It’s too early. He acts genuinely surprised by their presence every morning. Like this is supposed to be the day they finally sleep past 6:30. Like, remember that time? When we were on vacation and they slept until 9? We had coffee and read the newspaper.
If he was more awake, if I was more awake, I could remind him that they slept late because we were in a different time zone. I could remind him that someday he’ll miss this.
He knows. Things are changing. We all can sense it.
B says in one breath, “I don’t ever want to get bigger,” and in another she pines for the privileges big kids have. She knows she is funny. She’s discovered the art of the joke and the allure of mischief.
Last week at lunch, she tried “dammit” on for size. “Dammit, Mom, I said I want milk!” And immediately she repented. She knew it was not the right thing to say, but a boy at school said it, and she wanted to say it, to see what I’d do.
It made me sad to hear that word from my baby’s lips, and I told her so. There are words that just make people feel bad….and truth be told, “damn” isn’t always one of them. But it was the realization that this is where we are. She is in the world, hearing things she’s not used to hearing, exposed to things she’s not familiar with.
Later that same day I heard her in the playroom. “Dammit, where’s my pony?” And this time I laughed, because, well, she had “dammit” down pat. She used it in context, and that makes the writer in me proud.
We talked about it. No anger. Just conversation about words and how words can make people feel, including the person who speaks them. It was a surprisingly intellectual conversation for an almost-4-year-old. And she hasn’t said “dammit” since. 
rock family, pine cone family and seed family. see all the baby rocks?
There’s a mental spiral I start to go down when I think the kids are growing up too fast. I begin to imagine them two years from now, then five, then ten, and I fear I will wake up tomorrow and they’ll be out and gone. I feel it when a stranger approaches me in a store and comments on how cute they are and delivers that cliché that so many seasoned mothers do, “enjoy them! It all goes by so fast!” Though I can see the sincerity in her eyes. Hers are teenagers now. Still, I despise those words.
My advice is to be present today and write it all down. As much as you can. Write. And tell the stories to the people in your life who keep your stories safe.
I’m learning to dig my heels in and remember that this is just today. Things are changing, but it’s not linear and it’s not exponentially fast and today is still one day. I can’t slow them down, these babies kids of mine, but I can slow down and savor it. Stinky toes and all.

I’m linking up with Blog Bash and celebrating my favorite post.

  • Ado
    Posted at 02:07h, 27 March Reply

    This post was everything I feel now and have felt about the time passing too quickly (and damn that woman in the store who uses the cliche – does she follow every mother around? Is she like the Ghost of Parenting Future or something? Seriously.) Your writing is beautiful and it’s clear that you’re going to hold onto the moments through your writing – bravo. I’m a bit further ahead of you in the parenting game – now I have a tween, and my 7 YO is quickly – quickly moving from my baby to independent chid. All too fast…
    Thanks for linking up with us today, I’m so glad i got to read your post and look forward to reading more. – Ado

  • Gina
    Posted at 02:53h, 27 March Reply

    @Ado I love that. “Ghost of Parenting Future.” Yes! She means well, at least. So glad this resonated and so glad to have discovered your blog as well! Thanks for building community.

  • Alison@Mama Wants This
    Posted at 03:25h, 27 March Reply

    I feel this every day with my son. I still look at old photos and videos of when he was a baby and am overwhelmed by how quickly time flies. And as I bring another baby into the world, I just know that the feelings of omigod-you’re-growing-so-fast will just keep coming.

    So yes, to write, to hold onto those fleeting moments, so important.

    Thanks for sharing this with us for Blog Bash!

  • Stasha
    Posted at 17:21h, 29 March Reply

    What a lovely writer you are. And your little girl not wanting to grow up-my boy is the same. Wish we could bottle it up ha? Guess writing post like this you kinda are.

Post A Comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.