The Space Between

There was a time that I counted your little toes because the time seemed to allow for it. There was a time that I used to pull your head slowly into my neck so I could breathe you in. Oh how I miss that. There are pictures that remain in my mind, and they are full of baby pouts, chubby cheeks, and moments that seemed to move in slow motion.  They are moments I didn’t realize I should have been recording. They are the moments that defined me as a mother.

Somehow, despite the amount of warnings I received telling me just how fast time was going to move, I didn’t quite grasp it until I myself was caught up in the time warp.  So here I am watching you. Here I am trying to figure out this time we are currently visiting. There are all these people talking about babies, toddlers, teenagers, and college kids, but you don’t fit into any of those groups. You are somehow residing in the space between.

You are still a little boy, but you are trying to navigate a bigger world. You are holding onto your forever friends, while finding your crew.  You are still excited to see your mom and dad, but equally excited to wave goodbye.  The funny thing is, you’re aware that the wave goodbye makes me sad. You are still okay with making sure we are okay.

You are currently in the space between. You are not yet old enough to venture off on adventures of your own, yet not young enough to have us navigate them for you. These are new waters for all of us. No matter how prepared we feel there are moments that make us realize we fell short.

No one told me about the space between. No one told me how fast we would wind up here. No one told me that there was a time between chubby cheeks and teenage angst. No one told me. So here we sit in the space between. Here we breathe in. Here we breathe out. Here we talk about things that don’t involve baby toes or teenage love. Here we talk. Here we fight. Here we love. Here we try the best we can to navigate the next steps. Here we laugh. Here we stay silly. Here we teach our boys about forgiveness. Here we teach them about love.  Here we stay. Here we remain. HERE. Here, we embrace the space between.

This Is Ten

This Is Ten...
Ten years ago I was not yet a mom. Our eyes hadn't met yet. I had not yet held you in my arms. 
Ten years ago I was full of nerves about the unknown. Would I be good enough? Was I prepared? Did I even have any clue what I was doing? The short answer is, not really...but the long answer is, that ten years have shown us both that we are more than capable of navigating life together. 

Ten years...it's a big one my love. It's a decade. It's a milestone. You are officially turning double digits in the morning, and the magnitude of that is not lost on me. 

Ten years ago you came into the world. Most importantly you arrived in my world. With one sniff of your newborn head, and one finger wrapped around mine, I knew we were starting a journey I would cherish. 
With every new discovery, every giggle, every tear, every sleepless night, and every hug, you taught me that I was good enough, I was more prepared than I thought, and I did in fact have a clue. 
I have tried to teach you everything from your first words to your colors. I have tried to teach you to be kind, loving, empathetic, and giving. Somehow though, during all that teaching I learned more than I thought I could. 

Your curiosity has taught me to wonder more. Your enthusiasm has taught me to be excited about little things. Your generosity has taught me to give more. Your patience has taught me to breathe. Your empathy has taught me to understand more. Your kindness has taught me to watch my words . Your laughter has taught me to let go more often. Your tears have taught me that it's good to feel. You have taught me to choose joy. I barely remember me before you, but I know for sure that you have made me a better person. It's funny because I always thought my main job as a mom was to make you into a better person, but I've realized along the way that allowing you to do the same is the best for both of us. You see after ten years on this journey, I'm fully aware that you have just as much to teach me about this life as I have for you. Thank you for ten years of motherhood. I can't wait to see where the next bend in the road brings us. Happiest of birthdays. This is ten.

A Glimpse

I caught a glimpse of you through the window one afternoon. The sun was just at that spot where I had to squint to see. I watched you while you helped your brother practice his pitches. I watched you knowing that you wanted to do something else, but saw you were determined to help him feel successful. I remembered staying outside with you until the sun began to set as you tried to take your first steps.

I caught a glimpse of you as I walked down the hallway bleary eyed in the morning, rushing to get my first cup of coffee. I stopped in my tracks as you stood in the bathroom, tall, confident, and busy doing your hair for school. I saw you standing there and remembered the days when I washed that very hair.

I caught a glimpse of you laughing with your friends and it brought a smile to my face. It reminded me of how much your dad and I loved to make you laugh. Those initial baby laughs were the sound of pure joy.

I caught a glimpse of you as you ran around the yard pretending to be a professional baseball player. I remembered your tears after your first T-ball game because you were so tired and wanted to take a nap.

I caught a glimpse of you sleeping soundly in your bed with your long limbs, and feet that suddenly peak out from the bottom of the comforter. I remembered when you fit in my arms. I remembered when I would place your tiny little body into a crib and hope and pray that you would sleep for more than an hour. Now there are times I secretly wish you would wake up just to talk to me for a little while before I go to sleep.

I caught a glimpse of you. You are kind. You are smart. You are considerate. You are loving. You are a good friend. You are polite. You are gracious. You are thankful. You are curious. You are everything I imagined you would be when you first wrapped your tiny fingers around mine.

I caught a glimpse and it stopped me in my tracks because I have no idea how time could have possibly moved this quickly. As much as I loved who you were, I love who you are becoming more every day. I loved your baby feet. I loved your chubby legs. I loved your giggles. I loved the way you looked at me when I picked you up with your arms held up to the sky. I loved it all. I caught a glimpse of you though. I caught a glimpse of who you are and who you have the potential to be, and I'm excited for the next stage. I'm always going to love who you were, but I'm going to try to stop missing the stages that have passed so that I can start enjoying the stage we are in together.

One day you will understand. Parenthood is amazing, but it's hard. The hardest part is the letting go, especially when you catch a glimpse.