My children are growing up. They told me it would happen, but I didn’t believe them. They told me there would be a day when their little heads stopped smelling like a sweet, freshly bathed baby and began smelling like sweaty little boy. A day when they didn’t need my help to get dressed and started picking out their own (mismatched) outfits. They told me there would come an end to the constant cuddles and snuggles. They told me the day would come.
They told me. But I’m not ready! The 7:30pm, pre-bedtime me will laugh when she clicks back to read this after a day of wiping snot, tripping over toys and catering to the whims of an opinionated 4-year-old and head-strong toddler, however, 5:30am, pre-wakeup me, thinks that she might like to freeze time right now. Not forever – just for a little while. Long enough to prepare for the things I’m not quite ready for yet…
The Lost Nap
Let it be known far and wide that I am the Nap Nazi. My oldest son will be five in March and come hell or high water he is still in his bed at 1pm, poised and ready for a trip to the Land of Nod. I find that it’s important to I get a little “me time” every afternoon. Important because I enjoy it and also important because if I don’t get it – I become a horrible, vile, monster who will snap at the simplest request for yogurt instead of Cheddar Rockets. Don’t scoff. It’s happened folks. Now I get it. Not every kid hangs on to a nap this long and yes of course, next year will bring Kindergarten and the end of Big Boy Nap Time, but for now – while I still have a say, my sweet little boy will rest in the afternoon and so will his mama.
My 22-month old wants to use the potty. Yeah, yeah I know; It’s a good problem to have. But can we get real here for a minute? I do NOT want to take on potty training with a 22-month-old. Do you? Sure it’s cute that he wants to sit on his little Elmo seat and wave “bye-bye” to his poop, but do I really trust this kid to sit in his car seat and not saturate it with urine? Heck no. Wasn’t there supposed to be, like, a Pull-up phase in here somewhere? Wasn’t he supposed to want to shoot his pee at Cheerios in the toilet bowl and need M&Ms to get him interested in even sitting on the porcelain throne? I feel like we missed a step in here somewhere…
The idea of “covering up” in front of your kids is kind of a light suggestion, right? I mean, it’s not like I’m flitting around the house naked or anything – I’m talking about letting them splash around in the shower with me or not shooing them out of the room when I need to switch from my pajamas pants into yoga pants (you know, to start the day). Of course, we’ve talked about respectful boundaries and “private parts” and all that important parent-y stuff that is surprisingly even less fun to lecture about than it was to listen to as a kid. For right now, we are okay with being a sort of, half-modest household, but I know someday soon there will come a day when I will hear “Gross! Mom! Yuck!” as I am stepping into a nice warm shower. So that’s gonna be real fun.
Big Kid Clothes
Right now in our house, there is a very clear delineation between kids’ clothes the grown ups’ clothes. The kids’ clothes are little and sweet, with jelly stains and pictures of airplanes and motorcycles. They are always freshly laundered (because that’s a thing for me), folded and put away. The don’t have to be “on trend” or “long enough to cover their ankles”. They are utilitarian and functional with a just a whisper of Target flair. In contrast, the grown ups’ clothes are stretched out or shrunken (because following the care instructions is my kryptonite) and generally linger unfolded in the dryer for far too long. They are “on trend” from three years ago and only fail to cover the ankle because they are probably (definitely) yoga pants.
No More Pretending
Moms of girls may roll their eyes, but when you’ve got boys like mine, playing pretend is something you covet. When most of our hours are spent racing trucks, crashing into couches and begging to play “fight” (I’m not sure how that qualifies as a “game”), when my boys finally give in and play kitchen with me – I am in SAHM mom heaven. “Sure, I’ll have more ice cream tea!” “Yes, please! Pass the bubblegum pizza!” It gets old after a while, as all things do, but for the fifteen glorious minutes that I’m not being forced to build a Ninja Turtle fortress out of blocks, I am a happy camper.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Why don’t you just have another baby?” It’s certainly a valid questions and with everyone I know posting pictures of their baby bumps, don’t think I haven’t considered it. However, for the moment, I am content with this precious moment in time – with my two little boys, their tiny laundry and long naps.