We’ve been through so many stages with you, and I have learned so very much.
Yet, it’s those small, seemingly unimportant moments that my heart yearns for the most.
The first time you got the hiccups while we were in the mother/ baby wing of the hospital. Your sweet little newborn smile when you were wrapped in a towel after your bath. The way your face scrunched up when you were hungry throughout the night. The first time you said “Mom.” Your angry sobbing as you rocked on your knees, trying to crawl. Your first steps and giggles while being pushed up high on a park swing.
Those fleeting, every day moments. . . Those are the ones I miss. Days filled with yawns and upturned toys and dismantled bookshelves. Days filled with snuggles and laundry piles and forgotten dishes.
We went through a six-month-long phase of eating bananas every morning for breakfast. You have always wanted to eat immediately upon waking, and from nine through fifteen months, bananas were our answer. Now, I can hardly get you to eat them (and only when slathered in peanut butter). Through you, I have learned that toddlers are finicky creatures best handled with a fully stocked pantry.
We went through a phase of prolonged goodbyes. Each time daddy would head back to work after lunch, a stream of “Love you too! Love you too, Daddy! Love you too!” would fill the air as your heart bade you to say it just one more time. Through you, I have learned I LOVE YOU battles are my favorite way to fight.
We went through a stage of “Mmmhhmm” anytime I asked you a question.
“Do you want a snack?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Do you want to watch a show?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Do you want to go shopping with Mommy?”
“Mmhmm.”
I soon grew weary of all of your Mmhmm’s, but now that you’ve moved on, I find myself missing them. Through you, I have learned that motherhood is a juxtaposition of wishing for the next stage while already missing the moment we’re in.
We have gone through phases of only watching the Lion King to loving anything and everything to do with How to Train Your Dragon and Troll Hunter. Your interests have expanded while simultaneously fine tuning on all things dragons, dinosaurs, and monsters. Through you, I have learned that scary and disgusting things can be “Cute!” if only you have the eyes to see it.
Right now, we are on the cusp of passing through yet another stage; of transitioning from toddler to boyhood.
We are entering a stage where you are able to put your shoes on by yourself, and where playing outside means pausing to pick mommy flowers. We are entering a stage of chatter as you string fully formed sentences together and tell me about the shows you are watching, games you are playing, and the things you are discovering. We are entering stages that feel so big as you ask, “What’s this?” and answer, “I’m fine.”
We are leaving behind days where “snakes” and “worms” are interchangeable nouns. We are leaving behind the stage where you need a half hour of snuggles to fall asleep at night. You are running ahead full throttle and no longer needing my assistance to climb up high on the park equipment.
You are ready for just a little more independence, and your beautiful personality is about to unfold in ways I could never imagine. Yet, I know that even as things change, some things will stay the same.
Your love for your sister. The way you always make sure she also gets a snack and a toy. The way you console her, rubbing her back and telling her, “Okay, Lily.” The way you encourage her, saying “Good job, Lily!” or “Try again.” The way you give her the stuffed animal you were playing with, and the way you’ve put up with endless reruns of Moana, all speak to the height and depths of your heart. No wonder God calls us to have the faith of a child. Through you, I have learned that toddlers have a capacity to love unmatched by almost anyone else. Anyone but Him.
Your love of adventure. The way you literally chase life, running in gleeful circles around our couch or down a trail in the woods by our house. Through you, I have remembered the joy of childlike curiosity and the importance of opening myself up to flexibility.
Your forgiveness. The way I’ll go from yelling to apologizing to laughing as you throw yourself in my arms. Through you, I have learned that grudges serve no purpose other than to isolate myself in the past.
Your enthusiasm for learning. Every time we drive past the library, you are quick to point it out and ask if we can get books. You love flipping through the pages, listening to the stories, and pointing out the characters. You mimic emotions and facial expressions. You repeat ALL THE WORDS, and yell “Watch out!” anytime you see another cart at the grocery store come even remotely close. You’re a social little boy who wants to do ALL THE THINGS with ALL THE PEOPLE, and I love watching you learn how. Through you, I have learned that even as you grow, your growth will nurture and develop me.
I’m learning right beside you, and it’s a place of such tender stretching and molding, that sometimes I’ll lose my temper, and others fall flat on my face in prayer.
These stages are full of tears and laughter. They are abundant with love and hope.
And no matter how things change, there is no other place I’d rather be.
So as you turn three, my heart struggles to accept saying goodbye to your beautiful two’s. They’ve been anything but terrible.
And as you grow older, my heart tells me that there is still so much good to come; so much yet to discover, celebrate, learn, and embrace.
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