Monday, August 11, 2008

Bye-bye, little baby

I'm really not digging the Terrible Twos right now. From one day to the next, we never know if we'll have a good day (laughing, smiling, cuteness, new words, new skills, cooperation, good naps, eating well) or a Terrible day (screaming, crying, throwing things, getting frustrated over a lack of new words and skills, refusing to take a nap, acting like food he liked the day before is burning acid in his throat...). The highs are really high, like J running up to me and cannonballing into my lap, shouting "Mommy!" like I'm the best thing he ever saw. But then the lows can be pretty low, as evidenced by the scene last night when J flipped out over taking a bath, but we had to force the issue because he was covered in dirt and chocolate pudding, so we ganged up on him like jail wardens, TH wrestling the kid while I manned the soap and washcloth.

That said...I realized over the weekend what I hate the most about this age. It's the growing pains -- mine, not his. My baby is leaving me. Sure, he's still in diapers and he still sleeps in a crib, but his growing independence is causing me to struggle some days just as much as him. Over the weekend we had a little dinner party/playdate with friends from out of town--one friend has 8-month-old twins, and the other has an 8-week-old. As I was holding the newborn baby, I tried to remember J at that age, and I couldn't. I remember that time in our life, and I can tell a million stories about breastfeeding, poopy diapers, and sleep deprivation, but I can't really remember what J looked or sounded or smelled like then. If I didn't have the pictures to prove it, I probably would have forgotten little details like what his face looked like without eyebrows (he didn't have any for a long time) and the fact that he had pretty bad baby acne when he was 6 weeks old (totally forgot about that until I pulled out the photo album the other day). Then I looked over at J standing next to one of the twins, and he was HUGE, he towered over them like a giant. Was he really as small as them only a little over a year ago? When did he fit 9-month size clothes? I remember saying to my sister when he was that age that I couldn't even imagine him walking and with a mouth full of teeth. And she wisely told me, "Just wait. Soon you won't be able to remember when he didn't."

I looked back and forth between the 3 littles ones and my big one, and realized his "baby" days are quickly receding into distant memory. And wouldn't you know it, I felt a little sad. Don't get me wrong, I love my almost-preschooler, tantrums and all. He's much more fun and interesting and engaging in so many ways, and in all honesty I wasn't a huge fan of the newborn phase anyway. It's not so much that I miss him being a baby...it's more the realization that the whole point of going through these Terrible Twos is to start the long road to independence. He's still needy and clingy to Mommy most days, but I can see that as he learns to jump and walk and run, he's jumping and walking and running away from us, bit by bit. One day (too soon) all of this...this...littleness will be another distant memory and a picture in the photo album, and I won't be able to really remember a lot of it. The day is coming when I'll be watching him skateboard down the street or something, and I'll fondly recall him throwing a fit about not being able to turn the pedals on the tricycle, screaming "I DO IT! I DO IT!" as I tried to help him. I'll be like my own mom, forcing my former mama's boy to give me a kiss before he runs into his first day of school, then secretly watching him through the window and crying (one of her favorite stories). I know, I know, it's wonderful and necessary and the natural order of things, but still...it burns a little, doesn't it?

5 comments:

deebo47 said...

Ok, I had to comment on this one after a long hiatus from posting...this made me feel so wistful for when my kids were little like J. You're right - with every new age there are wonderful things you discover about your children and your relationship with them deepens and becomes more complex than before. I love my eight-year-old son's fascination with Harry Potter, Transformers, astronomy, and lately, Barack Obama. It's wonderful to be able to talk with him about the Olympics or his friends at school or listen as he explains his drawings (which have become more and more realistic). I adore my six-year-old daughter's love of all things pink and girly, and her excitement over her first loose tooth and her first sleepover party, the way she gossips with me about anything and everything when I'm putting on my makeup in the morning and she sits on the edge of the tub, chattering away. But then I think back to when he was 2 and she was an infant, and it feels like memories of someone else's life. Did we really need booster seats at the table? When was the last time I bought diapers or sippy cups? Where does the time go? I find myself panicking over the thought that for Xman, middle school is only Three. Years. Away. Seriously? Good post...

Karla said...

Oooh I totally hear you on this one!!!

LauraC said...

I'm definitely empathizing with this post. Anyone who knows me knows summer is my positively absolutely favorite season and my favorite thing to do is go to the pool (or beach) and be in the sun. For the first time in my entire life, I left the pool early. I did not want to leave the pool early. I had to leave bc someone (we'll call him A) screamed and cried and kicked and flailed and carried on so bad I had to leave.

My transgression was sitting on the side of the pool. That's it. And that started a 45 min fiasco in which I carried a kicking screaming toddler home.

The worst part for me was Nate and Jon in the deep end of the pool, laughing and splashing. It was like seeing both sides of the toddler craziness at once. I could be in the deep end enjoying life! Giggling and laughing in the summer sun!

I'll miss these crazy days but man oh man I will not miss moments like that.

Julie said...

Beautiful post, Desi. I could have written it myself, although not so eloquently. I too was not a fan of the newborn phase and I do love my toddler--tantrums and all, but for the life of me I cannot remember the details of Lana when she was 3 months old, for instance. I wish I blogged then, to have a record of not just the details, but of how I was feeling and how I have evolved over the past year (or two!). When Lana was 5 days old, I was nursing her and I started crying b/c the love I felt for her was so intense. DH came into the room and said--what's wrong? I said-I am never going to be able to send her away to college!! Sorry for the novel, but your post really hit me!

Joanna said...

Yes, it does burn a little. I've been having very simialr thoughts. It's going by way too fast.