There is always one common theme, one consistent sentiment that is shared with me by parents of older children when it comes to rearing little ones. Enjoy this time. Savor these moments. Stop what you are doing and remember how they are right now; how their tiny hands curl in yours when you are walking together, how their little arms wrap around you in surprisingly tight grasps when they hug you, how they nuzzle their soft cheeks against your neck when you carry them off to bed, how their sweet voices sound when they chirp, “I love you Mama”.
There are days, there too many days when we move through the routine of our lives without even noticing that with each passing hour they are growing. Rise, clean, dress, breakfast, lunch prep, clean, carpool, home, dinner, clean, baths, clean, bedtime, stories, sleep. Mixed within are many silly moments together during those few hours we have before work and in the evenings before bed, but there are also so many hectic moments where I find myself scrambling them from one must-do task to the next. How limited our time together feels. It seems as though I blinked and my little girl is four and telling me on a daily basis that she is right and I am wrong; already so certain that she knows more about the world than I ever will. Somewhere along the way I turned, and my two year old son found his words and began to tell me about his day. Soon he will not be as keen to snuggle with me in our quiet mommy/son moments. Soon like my daughter he will want to walk on his own, content to stray away from his mother’s grasp. I did not realize until recently when he insisted on walking up the stairs to bed instead of resting heavily in my arms, how very much I am beginning to grieve the passage of time. I did not realize until that moment how much I need to carry him, and to my dismay how it is oh so much more than he needs to be carried. With eyes stinging and a lump in my throat, I followed behind him with arms at the ready up every cautious step.
I have been putting off a certain rite of passage with regards to my son. While he is quite capable drinking from a cup, I have fallen a bit behind schedule when it comes to weaning him off the bottle. His older sister was easy. I just stopped giving it to her and she barely batted an eye. There was no emotional investment for her or a need to continue using it. My son is a bit different. He loves his “ba-ba”. We’ve tried a few times to deny him and put his milk in a cup instead, and the result was the very few instances that he has ever thrown a tantrum. He is one very easy going little dude, except when he is hungry and except when he wants his bottle.
So why not push through it like we did sleep training for both children, or potty training for my daughter? Why not stand our ground and as my husband and I jokingly refer to it, “get him off the sauce”? He is ready. He is already biting holes in the nipples with his strong and full set of teeth. I am sure if we stuck to our guns that within a few weeks he would accept our decision to take the bottle away. I am sure if we can deal with the tearful protests he would get over it, and eventually even forget about it. I know the problem is with me. I know I am not ready for him to let go of that one last action that truly defines him as a baby.
I never fully understood until now what it meant when someone was referred to, like I was, as the baby of the family. He is my last, and will never, ever stop being my baby. I can foresee many times ahead where I will struggle to let go, every step in his life taking him further and further away from my reach. How will I handle it when I am no longer the most important person in his world? I do not know that answer, but here’s hoping it will be therapy free for both parties.
