Today, I'm slowing down and taking mental polaroids of my kids. It hit me today that my oldest "Chunk" is growing up too fast. (Chunk is just a shortened nickname from when he was a baby. He's all arms and legs now - skinny as a rail - and he knows that the nickname has more sentimental value for me, than being a reflection on his physical appearance. He takes no offense at the nickname and I'm the only one that can call him that.) At 11, he's only a few scant inches shorter than me. Standing toe to toe, he can almost look me in the eye. We live half a continent away from my family, so I posted a pic to Facebook to share with all my loved ones how big he's actually gotten.
Comparing his growth to the baby (whom we affectionately call "Monkey"), it saddens me how quickly childhood passes. Chunk is always trying to be older than he is. No one was there to fight for my childhood when I was his age, so I'm constantly battling him not to grow up too fast. He has the rest of his life to be a "grown up" - or at least what his version of a grown up is. I want him to have the stories of childhood, the memories of slower, sweeter days to look back on and fight for when he's raising children of his own.
So today, I'm enjoying my pumpkins. Being fully in the moment when Monkey pulls every garbage bag out of the box. Enjoying the feel of his chubby, slobbery hands. Not huffing when he wants to be picked up - AGAIN. And inhaling deeply when he falls asleep on my shoulder. And I'm enjoying that Chunk still wants to talk to me. That he's constantly curious and infinitely kind and sensitive. I'm treasuring my babies and hoping that the world doesn't alter them too much. Because they're perfect just the way they are.
Happy Raising.
No comments:
Post a Comment