Over the weekend, the fact that my children are growing was particularly evident. Anya, while she still had her Terrible Fours moments, was unusually mature and helpful. She listened. She did as I asked. She helped. She cleaned her room, ate healthy snacks instead of begging for junk food, and — what impressed me — she anticipated my needs and met them before I even asked.
Kai also impressed me with the things he is capable of. Like when he stood in his high chair to reach for the bird feeders drying on the counter. (Mini Mommy heart attack at that one…Anya never even did that!) When he signed “milk” while nursing: milk milk milk milk milk. When he snatched the food I was breaking into small, gummable bits and ate it like a toothed person, by taking bites out of it. When he let me know he was awake by sitting up and saying, very plainly, “Mom.”
One day, I had a baby and a headstrong preschooler. The next, a toddler and a little girl.
I miss my baby girl, my tiny baby boy. My heart aches for her little pudgy fingers, his contented newborn sighs. But I am also really excited about this next phase. I will get to know my daughter as a person. I will get to watch my son take his first steps and learn how to…everything. I will get to watch them play together and become even closer friends.
I, too, am growing. I look at how much I accomplish even on an off day, and I see how far I have come. I am becoming who I was always meant to be, and it is amazing.