Once upon a time, not that long ago, I was the mom of little kids and babies. I did things like wipe spit, find precious stuffed animals, answer the “But why?” question four thousand times a day. I used lots of plastic dishes, folded tiny shirts, carried children up and down stairs, and then up again. I kissed boo-boos, read books to them when they allowed it, and watched a lot of Blue’s Clues. I made a pawprint cake one year, three different Pokemon cakes another year, and tied on superhero capes. I bought coordinating outfits at Baby Gap and Gymboree for holidays, having all the power in the world to control what they wore for at least one night, knowing that one day, I would lose that power over them. I watched them grow, learn to walk, learn to talk, be the little people they were and were growing into. I knew that while that time period seemed to last forever, that it would pass quickly, and I should enjoy every moment of it.
It’s a good thing I did. Because somewhere along the way, I blinked. I blinked, opened my eyes and suddenly those little boys I carried on my hip are now looking me in the eye. The baby girl who insisted on being held by me every. single. moment. of the day and night in the beginning is now the most independent of girls, laying on the bench reading a book. Even Miss Maura, who has milked the role of Baby of the Family for all its worth, has matured over the past year.
I blinked and suddenly realized I now have a high schooler. How the heck did that happen? Who allowed that one? I’ve moved on from first birthdays and first days of school. I’m entering the zone of graduations and Confirmations, and am perilously close to driver’s ed and dating. Too close for comfort on those actually.
Oh, they aren’t completely grown up yet. They still want video games and Legos…wait…so does my twenty-seven year old brother. The girls still love dolls and dress up and I will indulge that as long as I can. Because I know one day, I’ll blink.
For now though, they still are my kids. Just taller kids.