Growing
This morning I was in the bathroom helping my five year old fix her hair for school. She was standing on a stool in front of the sink and asked if I would pull her hair up to keep in out of her face. I grabbed a purple rubber band from the drawer and started to pull up her hair when I noticed something.
The monitor next to my bed is really unnecessary these days. The baby, who's teetering dangerously close to two, doesn't require constant nighttime supervision. The monitor that lasted five years and 3 babies needs to be put away. It may be what I used to listen to their soft breathing when they were so small and helpless, but now they just come wake me up when they need something.
If they need something.
They use the bathroom, get water, find their lost stuffed animals, and adjust their night lights all on their own. The baby plays quietly and waits patiently in her crib until someone comes to fetch her. No tears, no fussing. They're growing up.
The crib is becoming obsolete. In a few short weeks the crib will be transformed into a 'big girl' bed. While all three of my babies slept their first years in that crib, it won't make another appearance until I'm welcoming my grandchildren. I'm shopping for mattresses and Girl Scout uniforms.
I'm watching my children grow. I'm seeing the baby phase move quickly into the distance and I'm watching trips to friends houses emerge. I'm watching them become readers and thinkers and imaginary unicorn catchers. I'm watching them explore and discover. And, I'm watching because the worlds I hear most are 'No, Mama. I can do it myself!'
Anyone know how to slow this down?
This is an original Deep South Moms blog post. ChristinaY is a freelance writer, PhD student, and mother of three. She blogs about her adventures and misadventures at hooey!critic.
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