I am in the basement with all three kids, enjoying that the computer is all mine for the next five days. Lucy is brewing coffee in her play kitchen and is filling my fancy mug from Swistle repeatedly. I tell her that this is the best coffee I’ve ever had, as I take a drink of the actual so-so coffee I’ve brewed and she tells me “It’s chocolate coffee Mama, I made it special for you.” She knows me well…a cup of actual chocolate coffee would probably make my day.
Up until a few days ago, when Lucy said “chocolate”, it was pronounced “cha-locket”. Suddenly though, she asked me for a cup of chocolate milk and “chocolate” was painstakingly pronounced correctly; I could tell she really had to think about saying it the right way.
I immediately burst in to tears, sentimentality and post-partum hormones getting the best of me. Hub laughed and rubbed my back for a second and commented that our little girl is getting so big. She is, you know. Now more of a person, her three-year-old self, than a baby or a toddler.
I don’t know what it is about this time of year that makes it seem like things change so quickly. The air is cooler and I’m taking stock of what I have in the way of warm clothes for the children, and gradually putting away sundresses and sleeveless tees. Yesterday, Lucy started pre-school, as opposed to plain old daycare. She is in Bud’s old room, with Bud’s old teacher and was seemingly ok when we dropped her off. Bud moved in to pre-kindergarten yesterday as well, a room where he will participate in show and tell and learn to write his full name, rather than his nickname. At he end of the day, both tell me that thy had a good day, though Lucy adds “but I did cry for you a lot, Mama.”
The baby changes every day too, showcasing her gummy smile and Michelin arms and legs. She pushes away from my chest and takes everything in, her eyes bright and inquisitive; mischievous even with prospects of what she’ll soon be able to get in to. Yesterday, when both of the big kids were laughing, she let out a tiny giggle.
Life goes by too fast.
Don’t wish their life away life away is some advice I was given when I first became a parent. Don’t think “I wish he could crawl”, “I wish she would start talking” or “I can’t wait until they are in school.” Everything happens in it’s own time, regardless of wishes.
My wishes tend to go unanswered though, after things have already changed, when I find myself wishing for just one more day with things as they used to be.