Yesterday I went to lift Amanda up and I looked down at her on my hip. Her legs were dangling and I was shocked at how long they were. My little's legs were not little.
These are strange moments for me. I go day in and out watching my kids and then out of nowhere something will trigger a great moment of melancholy. My heart will tighten and I'll realize that a season has passed...one I can't get back.
It's the weirdest thing to me what triggers these moments
-Watching my son remove his socks and remembering when he used to put them on his hands a two year old and play "Wab wabbit" sock puppets in the car...when did that stop?
-Hearing Gavin say "Helicopter" as he points to the sky and realizing that it's no longer a "helehopter"
-Watching a backpack go over my kids shoulders
-Seeing my daughter put on her own shoes
-Watching Bray take his dishes to the sink and go wash his hands, without being asked to 4 or 5 times
-Seeing the kids all reading together on the couch
-Picking up a stuffy at night time, realizing that my big guy didn't need it to go to bed
-Looking down to realize the legs dangling off my hip are no longer baby legs
They are just small moments, but they seem to hold so much in them. It is a sweet ache I get, but an ache none the less. I love watching my kids grow, but I also feel a desperation to have some days back. Of course, I can't. I can only move ahead. And so I do, but maybe at a little bit of a slower pace. Hoping to take it all in...knowing someday, if they take after their dad, I probably won't be looking down at all!
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