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baby soft

I get in my head a lot. I work in an office by myself, and though I’m often in and out, and sometimes people come in, I do spend the majority of my day sitting in a quiet state. Sometimes I’ll put on music, but I’m not much of a music person. Diametrically opposed to my husband, the music lover. I like podcasts, but since I’m often in and out, I’d miss parts, and I don’t like missing parts.

I don’t like thinking about my kids ageing. And this is one of things I dwell on. I sometimes like to think about my sixteen-year-old ageing, though, as in, ageing another year and a half because then she’s an adult and can live on her own because sometimes parenting a teenager is SO HARD SO HARD. Even though she’s a really great teenager, she’s still a teenager and it’s still hard and why do they have to grow up again?

I mourn my kids leaving the early years of childhood. Especially Preston, since I know that there is nobody coming after him. He’s it. His soft cheeks I can cover in kisses. His giggle as I chase him around the kitchen. His bony butt as he snuggles on my lap.

It’s funny, because when they’re babies, you just can’t wait for them to reach the next step. Holding their head up, sitting, crawling, walking, talking … At what point do you want them to slow down again? To stop going so fast?

I ran across this photo of Liliana the other day. Her crazy blond hair and her big inquisitive eyes. She was a handful back then, but I’d give anything to go back there. I love when they’re little.

But Preston will be seven in a few short months. Will he still want me to smother him in kisses? Will his cheeks still be baby soft? Will he still want to sit in close to me as we watch Grey’s Anatomy together? Will he still think it hilarious to kick me out of bed on Saturday mornings so he can snuggle into my spot? Will he still want to hold my hand when we’re walking together? Will he still need that third hug when I’m heading out the door?

As proud of him as I am, of each new milestone he reaches, it’s one step away from being my little boy. One step closer to being all grown up. And probably being taller than me.

Kaylie will be driving by herself soon. Liliana is growing out of pants faster than we can buy them for her. I swear Preston grew six inches in the last year. There are so many wonderful things about kids getting older, like diapers being gone, like seatbelts being done up unassisted, like games being funner to play.

But my babies. I miss my babies.

Categories: parenting is hard

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  • Rebecca Saturday, January 20, 2018, 12:43 pm

    I miss my babies so much sometimes too.

    Other times, 2 years and I have got them both to adulthood. Yes, good teenagers are good but they’re still so very hard.

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