A few weeks ago as I was driving the kids to school, I had to fight back tears. Though I have no desire to have more kids, I miss my babies. The realization that they are just getting older and moving closer to a point when they'll venture out on their own, is weighing heavy on me. Each time I look at Shelby my heart hurts a little. She's looking more grown up every single day. And Cooper, when I hold his hand, I worry the baby fat around his knuckles will be gone soon.
Does this happen to other moms? Or am I just a little too sensitive? I don't really want them to be babies, but I also don't want them to grow up so fast. I want to keep them tucked in my arms, safe and cozy for as long as I can.
But that's not realistic, right? I really thought I had more time.
I have been think about this a lot lately. Even more so as Shelby is straddling childhood and her teen years. I'm not sure what to do or if there's really anything I can do to slow things down. I really thought I had more time.
I guess that's what motherhood really is. We bring our children into this world: hold their hands and guide them as longs as they'll let us; and then pray they make good choices and find happiness in their own lives. But. But. Well. I really thought I had more time.
What I can do is cherish the moments Shelby and Cooper are still willing to hold my hand or cuddle on the couch. I can savor the moments they're still willing to tell me their secrets. I can soak up every family dinner or grand adventure. I can store up memories for the day they leave the nest.
I really thought I had more time.