This transition is truly a
bittersweet one, as all who have gone before me have prepared me to expect. For years as I have juggled little ones
through all stages, I have been reminded regularly to “Savor those moments!
They won’t last forever!” These are instructions every young parent receives
from seasoned veterans, and they can be a good reminder when the frustrations of
parenthood seem overwhelming. These
well-intended directives can also be a frustration themselves. When you are up to your elbows in diapers,
tears, and tantrums, they can serve as another reminder of your failures. “I should be savoring this moment. Why am I
not savoring this moment?”
As my last child begins the long
journey of leaving, I can see the transient nature of these moments with a newly
crystallized clarity. Soon when I stub
my toe, no one will run to get the doctor’s kit and give me a thorough examination,
complete with shots and an exploration of my ears (just in case). Is this the last time that I will hear a
sweet little voice sing “Happy Birthday to Mommy” while handing me a wooden cake
decorated with little painted candies? When will he start insisting on sitting
next to me to read a book, instead of right in the middle of my lap so that I
have to crane my neck around him to see the words? Will my heart break when he
finally asks for “dessert” instead of “bessert”?
I am fully aware, however, that I am
able to experience such clarity now only due to the absence of the usual chaos
surrounding us. This phase is the
bookend to the brief time with my oldest before she had any siblings to compete
for attention. How easy it was to soak
in the moments when she was the only one.
How much harder it was when she brought me a birthday cake and wanted to
sing to me while her newborn brother spit up down my front and screamed in my ear. How often did a child attempt to give me a
full checkup only to have it interrupted by the urgent needs of another child? I
could hardly enjoy lying still on the couch with a stethoscope to my forehead
when my toddler had just discovered the floor lamp across the room. In these couple of hours alone each day with
my last little one, I can see the difference so clearly. It can still be hard embrace the moment over dishes
or paperwork or other demands of daily life, but it is often impossible to do so over the other small
people who are entirely dependent on you.
With this recognition comes an understanding that I wish I had had earlier.
And maybe this applies to all parents of littles, regardless of how many
you have. Those constant reminders to
savor? They aren’t wrong. Savor! Savor every moment that you can! Savor the ones that just happen to
fall during a time when younger ones are napping, or older ones are at school, or
during five miraculous minutes when no one is screaming or demanding anything
extra of you! Those moments do happen, albeit
brief and fleeting. But don’t sweat the moments when you can’t stop to savor. You are not a failure if you don’t feel magic
in every moment. It may be true that in
another 10 years he won’t be driving matchbox cars up your legs with zooming
sounds, and you will miss the sweetness of it.
That doesn’t mean that you are capable of admiring it while you are
trying to walk his baby brother to sleep, nearly tripping over him with every
step.
Just savor when you can, and know that more opportunities will come. Fully enjoying these moments with my littlest somehow feels like savoring the moments from all of my kids at once. It is being in the moment and remembering the past and experiencing the magic of both all at once. It is a final parting gift from all of their childhoods, and I will soak it in as long as I can.
