Growing Up is Hard...On Mommy

The Little Badgers are growing up.  Big Brother Badger opened a bag of cereal all by himself this morning.  Sometimes I can't do that without ripping the bag.  Baby Badger is starting to really talk, and she can climb into her car seat without any help.  And Little Brother Badger went on his first sleepover last weekend.  Of course, since he is three, it was a sleepover at his cousin's house, and Mommy came along to spend some quality time with Auntie.  But, still, a legitimate, all-night-long sleepover.

After some careful packing (he can't sleep without his turtle blanket, pillow pet, stuffed snake, stuffed Thomas, toy border collie, and Thomas pillowcase), I drove him up on a crisp Saturday afternoon.  The drive was about 25 minutes, and he was chattering the whole way.  What would his cousin want to play?  Will there be a toy fire truck?  Will we get to watch "Thomas"?  Can I have my milk in a sippy cup?  By the time we pulled in, and his cousin ran to greet him, I was worried that all the excitement would result in a quick burnout and tears.  Much to my relief, there was nothing but joy for both little boys.

They played outside in the sand box, discovering a mutual love for construction equipment.  They traded stories about how soon each of them would reach the exalted age of five.  They shared a train push-toy as best as I could have hoped for.  At dinner, they both dug in to big bowls of mac n'cheese, and encouraged each other to eat their broccoli.  Cookies and milk followed, with thanks to Auntie for finding a suitable sippy cup in her cupboards.  Little Brother Badger expressed amazement that his cousin had different toys, but the same big potty.  TV and inside toys, and then a reaaaaaallllly long bath, and then bedtime.  The boys planned the layout of the stuffed animals, snuggled through a story, and giggled together as Auntie and I left the room.

It took a while for them to go to sleep.  We had to go up a couple times, and reassure Little Brother about spiders and strange shadows.  We had to fortify the nightlight situation.  But, eventually, we crept downstairs and just listened.  Auntie was very clever and had set up a baby monitor so we could stay downstairs and not worry.  Of course, worry we did anyway, and we listened to the children's endearing, heart-squeezing, tear-inducing conversation on the monitor.  The little boys talked about missing their Daddies (one being at home, the other out with friends) and other things, their small voices growing softer and more tired.  Eventually, we moved away from the monitor to share some wine and our own conversation.  Every now and then we heard laughing, and then, finally, it seemed like both boys had fallen asleep.

We had an early wake-up the next morning, but things went so well overall.  It wasn't until I was driving Little Brother back home that I started to think about what this meant for him.  He had politely refused to let me hold him while at his cousin's house, saying, "You can hold me when we get home, Mommy".  I think he was trying to be a big guy, but his poor Momma is not quite ready to let him grow up so fast.  There was so much happiness in my boy as he raced around in his pajamas and Lightning McQueen slippers with his cousin, up and down the stairs.  But his pajamas were just a bit too big, and his hair was just a bit too long, making him look so little.  He's had the same sweet smile since he was a tiny baby, and I'm sure he'll wear that particular smile on through adulthood and it will make me cry on his wedding day.

I observed to Daddy River Badger the other day that even though each new stage brings sadness that the Little Badgers are growing up, it brings joy, too.  Big Brother Badger just turned five, and I can't wait to watch him shine every day, reveling in his imagination, his delight at being a big kid, his discoveries.  I miss my shy baby, but I burst with pride at my new little man.  As the Semisonic song goes, every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.  I always wondered why I cry so much as a Mommy.  I think I know now it's from the gaining and losing, the bright joy and subtle sadness, the lost and found, and all in a day's work.  And over it all the desperate hope that I won't forget a moment and the painful realization that I probably will.  See you tomorrow, folks.