From babies to big boys

I have been thinking about my visit to Port Discovery and Beth and her boys, William and Seth.

I couldn't help but marvel while we were there together at how well Seth was speaking, and how tall William is, and how they both had complicated things they thought about and then articulated, and good grief -- they are not babies! They are boys.

Sometimes, it's hard for me to imagine that being Cary and Dean one day, but I know it will happen in the blink of an eye (or so everyone tells me). When I see Beth and her two boys, it seems so wonderful to have two little people to hang out with and enjoy, as opposed to two little babies to supervise and enjoy (in a different way). But then I get a phone call like the one I got yesterday that gives me pause.

Kristie, the physical therapist who has been seeing the boys since Cary was a teeny, tiny thing, called to tell me that my boys are doing so well, they don't need her anymore. In fact, she confessed that they haven't really needed her for quite some time, but that she just liked them so much, she kept coming back. But now, she can no longer justify the visits (this is a free program) especially since for months now, her reports about the boys have been glowing. Someone above her was bound to pull the plug if she didn't. And there are children who really do need her, which I understand, so I (reluctantly) agreed that my boys' time with Kristie was over.

I love hearing that my boys are wonderful -- of course I do. And I love hearing that they no longer need physical therapy. But somehow, this all reminds me that they are growing up and growing out of phases.

They were preemies who needed a little bit of extra help with low-muscle tone (Cary) and a slight bit of high muscle tone (Dean). They are now toddlers who can jump and climb and move my dining room chairs into my living room (over and over and over again).

They were tiny 4 lb. babies who needed me for everything. They've now almost completely outgrown their 18-month pajamas, and balk if I cut up their banana instead of letting them just bite it, like big boys.

It's amazing to watch two people grow. It's literally mind-blowing, and beautiful and bittersweet.

I watch them do things like this:



And I think -- simultaneously -- "Where did these silly, silly babies learn to put their loveys on their heads??" and "One day they'll be big boys who won't toddle around in footie pajamas with loveys on their heads, babbling incoherently!"

And I want to laugh and cry all at the same time.

I wonder if Beth thinks about these things, or LauraC., or my friends Angel and Kelly and Neelofer and Stacey. Does my sister Tahira think them about Russy, who is growing so tall, I can't stand it. Did my Mom ever think them about me?

Am I just overly-introspective? I mean, sheesh, people grow up, right? I'd be miserable if Cary and Dean stayed in diapers their whole lives! And threw their dinner on the floor at 17! Or cried and whined because it was 5:30 p.m., so what else is there to do?!

But I wouldn't be too, too mad -- if I'm being honest -- if they toddled with padded feet just a little longer. And held on to those loveys just a little longer. Whether on their heads, or clasped in their hands while they sweetly sleep, those loveys tell me my babies are still babies.

For just a little while longer.