Today, Cade turns two. And a thought occurred to me; the baby days are over.
Officially.
I've been kind of waiting around to see what kind of mom I'd be at the big events. I have friends whose children are going away to college. Some are stoic, some are tearful. I've been kind of worried that I'm going to fall into the former knowing that the latter is where the 'good moms' fall. But, I've found that with this particular milestone, I've stayed true to what my parents always said of me by defying category. Because I'm not stoic or tearful. I'm flippin' ELATED! Tomorrow marks a turning point toward things like:
1. My own meals. I mean, like every bite belonging solely to me.
2. My very own private time to use the bathroom.
3. My own showers - no more shaving my legs in precarious positions because I'm worried the baby will get whiskers in his eyes, or worse, look up and be completely scarred for life.
4. My own bed. Ok, this one's still way in the future since my 4-year-old is the worst offender.
5. My very own husband. Because neither Chad nor I belong to one another right now, but to the dictatorial little squatters.
6. Freedom from other people's poop (and additionally about $100 a month in the pocket when we say goodbye to diapers).
Sounds heartless, but you know me. I mask the sentimental in sarcasm. So, in order to redeem myself in your eyes, I admit that I'll miss things like:
1. Fat rolls on wrists, knees, and ankles that are meant to be kissed.
2. Feet that are shiny and new. Seriously, babies have beautiful, shiny feet.
3. An addendum to #3, but deserving it's own number - baby toes. Yummy.
4. Hair that smells like sunshine (big boys smell like tennis ball cans).
5. Contagious giggles - this doesn't go away at 2, but it's getting there.
6. Eyes filled with wonder and awe at God's creation, without even knowing the word God.
7. Cuddles that come from boo-boos.
Oh, there are more things that I'll look forward to and things that I'll miss. But I'm feeling it all at once tonight and my mind is too weary (mostly from attempting to make a crocodile cake) to get them all down.
I know it was harsh when I called my kids squatters, but they kind of are. They find a nice place in your heart and then claim it by sheer virtue of being there. See? Just because I don't use fluffy words doesn't mean I don't love my kids! So, Happy Birthday, Cade. The last of my babies. And goodbye to your baby days, but hello to discovering who you are as a boy.
