Thursday, April 3, 2008

Am I Ready for This?

So I was getting ready for work this morning and asked Cat to throw her pj's in the hamper since I was going to try to tackle some laundry before the weekend.

She threw a big lump of stuff in the hamper, way too heavy for just flannel pj bottoms and a T-shirt. I pulled out 2 rejected, rolled up outfits that rather than hanging back up in her closet, she decided to throw in the laundry and let me deal with it. Funny thing, I used to do the EXACT same thing to my mom.


I pulled the clothes out and gave the bedroom door a quick knock and walked in (not respecting her privacy but I had laundry on the brain). She was in her jeans and holding her sweatshirt up over her body. I noticed she was finally wearing one of her bras that I bought her ages ago. She is definitely showing signs of pre-teen hood. After agreeing to hang up the outfit rejects and throwing me out of her bedroom, I started to mourn the passing of time.

As corny as it sounds, I can clearly remember pacing the floor at 3 am with her screaming in my arms (fed, changed, burped, but still crying), thinking "I can't wait for these days to be over." Or the day she stuck a bead in her ear by accident pretending it was an earring and rushing her to the doctor in hysterics thinking "I cannot wait for her to get out of this phase."

It goes by so fast



I am thinking about conversations that I never thought I would have and wonder how I am handling them:


"Becky's mom limps because she has an illness making it hard for her to walk (MS), but don't worry, she will be ok"



"Samantha's mom and dad are getting divorced, but you don't need to worry about mum and dad, we are fine."

"Papa can't stay up as late and play with you like he used to, he's getting older, but don't worry, he's fine"

"Don't worry about how Mark is treating you, boys start acting different at this age."

Don't worry

Don't worry

I always worry. I hope she doesn't wind up like me.

Ok, time to pull out my Literature background on your asses

To a young child

Margaret, are you grieving

Over Goldengrove unleaving?

Leaves, like the things of man, you

With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?

Ah! as the heart grows older

It will come to such sights colder

By and by, nor spare a sigh

Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;

And yet you will weep know why.

Now no matter, child, the name:

Sorrow's springs are the same.

Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed

What heart heard of, ghost guessed:

It is the blight man was born for,

It is Margaret you mourn for.

Gerard Manly Hopkins 1880

~T

3 comments:

Kris said...

Yeah so......now I know why you need the Cosmo this weekend.....

My son isn't quite to that stage (heading into pre-teen) but I am waiting and on full alert.

He doesn't seem to really need the deoderant he got in his stocking for Christmas yet....for some reason, I am waiting for that as my first really big sign.

Shall we drag out the baby movies this weekend and remember our baby-days??!!

Queen of Shake-Shake said...

I've realized lately that my youngest son is completely out of toddlerhood and now a boy. Ack! How does the time go by so fast??

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