My Babies

I watch my little girl grow, she is changing incredibly everyday.  I am amazed at what a tiny little person, and her ever growing mind can do.  Each day I'm afraid I am becoming increasingly more forgetful, struggling to remember the simplest of things, the placement of keys, a parking space, a common word.  And here this small wonder whisks through life, gathering, storing and using enormous amounts of information, always hungry for more.

What happens to us as we age?  It's scary to think, it wasn't too long ago I felt as hungry for new information as she is now.  Now I feel a low fog creeping in, stealing away that hunger, making me tired and complacent.

I remember gathering new things I' learned, as though they were tiny precious stones.  Putting them deep into my pocket to take out and admire, and brag about later.  Now I watch a small little girl, with wonderment shining in her big blue eyes.  Forming words from what she hears repeated to her.  Taking my hand to show me something that has intrigued her.  She stumbles over the new words that fall from her perfect little mouth.  She savours each of her new words like a delicious treat, running them over her tiny tongue.

It's a beautiful thing to watch your child learn, and grow.  For some reason, maybe it's denial, I forget that it happens everyday.  That each day she'll continue to change right before my eyes.  Still I am stunned when she does something she has never done before.  When she says a new word, or makes huge physical leaps and bounds, I'm left feeling proud, a little sad, and unbelievable happy, all at the same time. 

I am so excited to see what her future holds.  To watch her become more independent, stand on her own two feet, to grow into a girl, and then into a young woman.  But there is always the tiny ache that makes me forget the sleepless nights, the frustration of temper tantrums, and the sheer exhaustion of being the parent of a small child. 

 I've watched two other children grow up and away from me, becoming real, live people.  They no longer need me to wipe their noses, or their bums, thank God, I can never be grateful enough for that. But, they'll no longer crawl up onto my lap, hold my face in their hands, tell me they want to live with me forever, or marry me because they just can't leave.  Instead they've become these wonderful (although exceptionally annoying much of the time) people, who are separating, ever so slowly from the clutches of their mother.

I guess that's the thing with the smallest one.  I float between wanting to get my own independence back, yet wanting to hang onto the remaining moments of my last and youngest child being small.