Growing up

Wales is growing up way too fast.

The bittersweet thing about it is that my job, as his mother, is to help him negotiate that process, to basically smooth the way for the inevitable changes that will take him from helpless crying infant to dependent baby-talking toddler and on up to the teens where he probably will only speak in monosyllables and into adulthood where, God willing, he will again speak in intelligible sentences.

He's been trying to push the process lately. He's struggling to give up his naps, but it leaves him cranky and frustrated. He insists on wearing Pull-ups during the day, although he isn't able to control his bodily functions yet. They're "big boy" diapers that you can put on yourself. Of course they're better.

He's changing form, growing tall and lean. His uncut blonde baby locks need to be trimmed-- he'll be a big brother soon, and he needs a big brother's haircut. He's looking forwards to being a big brother-- he hugs my belly and kisses it, and asks me every day if the baby will be "home soon?"

Today, we watched a show on the farming channel about beef cattle. I told him that cows were yummy, that we eat "cow meat." He thought this was a great idea-- he ran off to his room and returned with two Little People cows and one Little People zebra. Which he proceeded to chew on. I'm not sure where the zebra came in-- I guess it became a cow by default. I let him put today's pot roast into the crock pot, to prevent any accidental ingestion of plastic animals. He added the bay leaf, the garlic salt, the spices, the chopped onion. At the end of it, he had to call his Daddy to proudly tell him that he'd "put cow meat in pot!" You could feel the happiness radiating off of him.

Cara came up to me the other day, teary-eyed. "It happens too fast! He was just a baby, now he's almost a kid! How can you stand it?"

She seemed totally unaware, of course, of the irony of her saying that to me, here only three months before her sixteenth birthday as she tries to get the pre-requisite classes to get onto the medical school track in college.

How can I stand it? She was a peach-fuzz-headed toddler herself just moments ago, towing around her infant sister and playing elaborate games with her stuffed animals and plastic rabbits. Mia was a distant curly-haired moppet, lost already inside her own mind. Ireland was incessantly bubbly and happy, with a chubby red-headed appeal. Even dour Paddy, at two, was a sweetheart at times, although always serious.

I stand it because I must, in the end. Because they grow up and you can (usually) talk to them. They become people, if you're lucky, people you can relate to as individuals, as adults, as equals eventually. Your adorable toddler disappears, but the love is not lost-- the child remains, even if it's just within that ache in your heart as you watch them growing up, stumbling and failing, and trying again.

I couldn't really answer her. I just bought her another novel and slipped it onto the bookshelf where she'd find it later, thanking God that I was blessed with a child who shares my love of books, someone I can discuss novels with. I only hoped it when she was two. Now it's a reality, and one that graces my days.

I don't know what graces Wales will bring into my life when he's a teen. But it's wonderful fun to find out.