If you know me at all, I am a broken record at this point – and I know it. But the only way out of it is through it, and for me through it very often includes writing. So, here we are.
I am one of those moms who obsesses over the ‘lasts’. And not just big milestones like their last day of preschool or the last night in their crib, I get bogged down by the small stuff too. Like the last time they sit in a booster seat at dinner, or thier last time wearing a puddle jumper. Some of the lasts are also firsts – those break me too. Like the first time they tie their own shoes, blow a bubble, or lose a front tooth. All such tangible reminders of the passage of fucking time that I can’t slow down no matter how bad I want to.
A couple weeks ago it was ‘my last mother’s day with a four year old’. Of course the day could have been labeled a million different things but my brain got stuck on that one. And it totally bummed me out.
And the crazy part is that my four year old is currently certifiably insane. And I do not mean this as a joke – anyone who spends real time with her will know that while she is adorable and amazing, she will scramble your brain in ten minutes and requires a level of physical and mental gymnastics completely unsustainable for any living person. But still – even in the chaos – even when I am pulling my fucking hair out I just want to bottle her up and keep here with me just as she is – needy, snuggle-obsessed, and little enough to carry (if you used to be a pretty big power forward). It’s the craziest thing about parenting – where two things not only can be true, but kind of are always true at the same time.
And four and a half years ago began the start of all the lasts. With no ability to ease my sorrows in knowing there will be a next time, Goldie’s lasts are my lasts too. And with every day that passes, I get further and further away from the mom who was dripping in drool and diapers for so many years. And the goodbye feels really, really hard.
So if you too are laying awake at night crying over your baby’s last night in his swaddle, your toddler’s first independently zippered coat, or your pre-teens first deodorant purchase – you aren’t alone. Having a front row seat to all these blink-of-an-eye changes can be truly wrenching. I just hope there are some equally magical and incredible life moments waiting for me in this next life stage. I think there will be.
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