For some odd reason, I was not consulted about this growing-up thing.
I’ve made every decision pertaining to my little children’s daily lives . . . except this one. What brand of diapers, should they have apple juice or milk, is cornstarch better than baby powder, how many cookies are allowed per day, where to get the best deal on jeans, is it warm enough to go without a jacket, what hair ribbon to wear today, which baby shoes look the cutest on my little tyke, how long should they be allowed to sleep in. So many decisions and questions are thrown at a mom every day.
In all that growing up, nobody stopped to ask, “May I grow up now, Mom?”
Don’t they know how much I will miss the thunks I hear overhead when they jump out of bed? Or the race down the stairs every morning and the grumbling trudge back up every night. The five little boots lined up in my mud room and the size 2 jeans hanging on the wash line.
Someday there will not be smudges on my sparkly windows, milk spilled on my freshly-mopped floor, dehydrated cookies under the couch, and troublesome Legos in my slippers. I know there will come a day when I will not have to remove the zoo of toy animals from my tub just so I can take a quick shower, or wade through the traffic jam of Hotwheel cars on my living room floor on my way to the coffee pot.
Did they not think to ask my permission to move from mittens to gloves or from toddler sandals to big girl ones with pretty flowers? The soft kisses from slobbery one-year-old’s have transformed into quick pecks on the cheek.
Sandbox dump trucks are being replaced with bows, little toy tractors with big boy bikes, and baby dolls with princess tiaras.
They’ve outgrown their pants, their bikes, their Sunday vests, their cups with lids, their car seats, and their cartoon toothbrush.
They may think they’ve outgrown my hugs and kisses, but they will never outgrow my love.
So in answer to this silent question of growing up . . . .
You have my permission to grow up, my children. Just don’t let me blink again in the next 20 years or I might miss something I want to treasure forever.
Now to go buy some big boy toothbrushes.
Just as soon as I get one more slobbery kiss from my two-year-old…..