New Kids on the Block

It seems like about once a year, it rains babies. In the last couple months, there's been this one, and this one and then this one. We are very very lucky in that that first one, Sidney, lives about 15 steps from our front door. And her parents are kind enough to let me come over pretty often to take in her sweet baby smell and kiss her soft head. We eye each other's kids with a bit of envy. Linda has admitted that she sees Holden and Riley and all they do and can't help but wish Sidney were a bit older – out of that newborn fog, laughing and running. Meanwhile, I look at her baby and think back on some moments I'll always remember, but will never relive again: Napping with Riley for three hours in the morning on the couch, watching them kick kick kick with glee at the water in their sink baths or the little coos they make when nursing in the still of the night.

Now, everything is so big-kid oriented. We even gave Grant our Pack 'n Play, marking the final finale of our crib days. I can't remember the last time I changed a diaper. Our sippy cups sit unused, taking up space in the cupboard.

Riley informed me a couple weeks ago that I'm to no longer give a “boop” on his nose with the toothbrush after brushing his teeth. “I'm three now,” he said. After a boopless tooth brushing, he runs to his room where he takes his clothes off by himself and puts on his pajamas mostly without help (shirts are hard!).

Holden, who plays soccer with that concentrated determination I remember seeing in the boys I grew up with, gets completely dressed and undressed by himself. Yesterday, he came inside after school and realized he forgot his backpack in the car. Gone are the days where I'd sigh and retreat back to the garage to fetch it for him. What did I do? I handed him the car keys. I. Handed. Him. The. Car. Keys. And without an ounce of hesitation or whines of “I caaaaan't,” he went into the garage, unlocked the car, got his backpack, LOCKED the car, and came back up. Whaaa?

We still struggle with our expectations of each other. We still expect them to not yell, run, roll around on the floor and jump off the furniture during a quick errand to the mall. They still expect us to drop everything and anything to respond to their needs RIGHT NOW.

While I still catch myself thinking wistfully of the future and how great it will be when they're more independent and reasonable, I look back at all these newborns and see how far we've come. Those babies are damn cute. But I still find the cute in my long-limbed boys, scooting around on the floor with their fire trucks, planes and race cars while making up elaborate stories about flying to outer space. It makes me smile when they play so nicely and creatively together, for remarkably long periods of time. They may not always need me anymore, but I'll always need them.