"The days are long...but the years are short..."
I've heard this sentiment expressed often from many a seasoned mother. I have no room to speak on the subject as my oldest child is only seven years old. I haven't "been there and done that" so to speak. Well, maybe a little, but I've barely been wading in the mothering waters...my knees are barely wet. There's always something new as they grow. Triumphs and failures. Laughter and tears.
But there is also a season when we leave behind that precious baby as they turn into toddlers and then into preschoolers. Ethan is in second grade now. We are full of firsts for him as he strives to figure out the world. He struggles but is wonderfully successful in his own ways. The toddler era slipped away. It seemed like he was a preschooler for two measly little seconds, and now, he's going into third grade next year. The time has flown by!
Daniel has done the same thing. Even down to the fact that I didn't think he'd ever have hair. And then he did. It was like I woke up one day and it had all grown in. The kids like to wear Deron's old t-shirts as pajamas, and the other day, Hannah wore the same t-shirt Deron was wearing the day we brought her home from the hospital. She's four now. (yeah, it's good and worn in) Grace'll be three this year. She's talking and enunciating words very well and was potty-trained earlier than any of my others.
It's weird not having one in diapers. Not having one that needs to be held. It's weird not having a baby around. It's weird going through clothes to give away because your youngest children have outgrown them. There's no one left to pass things to. When do they grow up?
I don't really know, but my guess would be little by little, bit by bit. One day, one moment at a time.