Monday, November 3, 2014

Writing to remember.

The remainders of my boy's babyhood are disappearing one after another. I often look at them and think about just how fleeting these years are. It's bittersweet to watch them grow and become more independent and smart; I bask in their achievements, but at the same time I'm afraid that before I know it these slow years of smallness will be a faded memory, full of holes that make me forget the tiny details of our existence right now.

Oh. It's too much. It doesn't go fast enough and then it goes too fast. I remember so well being a little girl standing on the broken concrete patio of my childhood home, knowing time would flow and take me with it until I hardly existed anymore. I didn't want to forget. I made a point of stopping, standing still, and willing myself to remember, always remember, what it felt like to be a girl right there on that patio.

And now I know time is doing it all over again. Taking something small and tender and growing it into something bigger and stronger, every day. It's happening right in front of me and there's nothing I can do about it. Even if there was, I wouldn't want to stop the progress. I wouldn't want to miss out on seeing what my sons become and what they have to offer the world. I love their strength. I love their growth.

But.

It hurts. It just hurts. This morning Phin found a hair on the floor and his little eyes lit up. He grabbed it between his grubby fingers, held it up, and asked, "Mommy can I lay down and suck my thumb?" We're trying to break him of the whole thumb sucking habit, but it hasn't been an instant thing. When he saw that gross hair on the floor he remembered all the blissful days he had as a baby, happily sucking his thumb with any old hair wrapped around it. And he wanted it again. The comfort, the happiness, the texture of hair.

I had to tell him no. No, you can't suck your thumb. No, you can't put that dirty little hair in your mouth. Yes, it's time to grow up some more. I laughed because it was so ridiculous, and I would have forgotten over time that the incident ever happened. Except, I don't want to forget. I want to remember the tiny transitional moments. From infant to baby. From baby to boy. I am the primary witness of my children's precious lives, and although they won't be able to remember all these things when they're grow up.. at least I'll be able to give them the gift of the memories I've stored up for them.

6 comments:

  1. Oh boo, I love being privy to some of those memories! Did I use that word the right way? Yesterday when we got home from the grocery store I set baby on the welcome mat by the door so he could watch me bring bags in. Just a few moments later I picked him up just in time to catch two different handfuls of hair and grunge before they went into his eager mouth. Haha. Phin must've had such a cute mischievous look on his face asking you that!

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    1. Yes, I think you did! :) I so appreciate you being privy to them. ;) Haha, that's great. Nip that grody habit while he's young! I loved seeing you guys this past weekend! kiss kiss

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  2. Oh how poignant. I must go tell someone.

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  3. I'm so happy for u that are blogging again. Thx for sharing. Love u sister.

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  4. My pleasure! Thank you for caring! Kiss kiss! <3

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