Growing Up

Since turning two a couple weeks ago, Ally has adopted the phrase "Me Too!". And she uses it continuously. So continuously, in fact, that even Ari has memorized the accompanying phrase, "Yes, Ally, you too." It's an interesting thing to watch...how quickly a second child catches on to the intricacies of life. How to use the bathroom, turn on lights, set the table, use a stool to get what she needs, water plants, get dressed (and undressed), serve herself, pour pretend tea and make the appropriate teatime conversation. Before she turned two, Ally was already doing most of these things. Meanwhile, my four year old still complains about dressing himself, feeding himself and washing his hands...but that's another blog post.

Yesterday I sat with a friend, the sun warm on our backs as we watched our kids play soccer, and I silently ruminated while we talked about how quickly our children seem to be growing. My quiet contemplation revolved around the maturity I seem to have gained in the past four years of motherhood. And I was surprised. Shocked, in fact. Shocked to realize that I've matured and become a better mother and also shocked that I noticed.

No longer am I longing for them to grow up so I can "get my life back" or so Sascha and I can sleep in on the weekends (although both would be nice someday). Instead, I am acutely aware of the passage of time. Maybe because Ally is my last child and she has now, officially, left the baby stage...and I know I won't get to experience that again until my own children someday have children. Unbelievably, I mourn this. With tears in my eyes, I think of the baby things that are done: the sloppy baby kisses, the first step excitement, the quiet moments of nursing. Two months ago, Ally loved to lay on my belly and rest her face against mine. She doesn't do that anymore.

And then I think of the Ari things that are almost done: mispronounced words, the jokes that don't make any sense, singing songs while sitting on the potty, mismatched clothes and wild hair, the grand ideas, the snuggles, the innocence. Just the other day he made his first angry self-derisive comment, "Fine! I'll just shut up then!" In shock and panic, I wondered, "Where did he get that? Did he get that from me?" We don't talk to each other that way in this house. We just don't. I could attribute it to playground learnings or the Looney Tunes he's been watching lately but the fact remains that he's growing up. This morning, he rolled his eyes at Sascha - in a fun way - but still, it happened. That innocence is slowly dropping away. But then he climbs into bed with us and rubs his nose against ours and I remember that it's still there. They still want their mommy. They still shout "Daddy!" when Sascha walks in the door. It's still there. For now.

Though tender, I am extremely grateful for this realization...for the new awareness I have. It means I'm embracing this time with at least the intention of being fully present during these days of chaos and noise and messes everywhere. It makes me a more patient mother. It makes me really see them when I look into their crystal eyes.

Have you ever stopped to really see a child when you look in their eyes?

Their soul lights up.