The Lasts

This summer, there was a popular and well-shared blog floating around the Internet… “Two Words I’ll Never Say Again to My Daughter”… something like that. I clicked on it because the suspense was killing me. I’ll save you the angst if you didn’t read it. The two words were: “hurry up.”

Phew!

While really, I couldn’t agree with her sentiments more… that ain’t real life, my friends.

Exhibit A: Getting home from work at 4:55. I had to get one girl to soccer at 5:30 and the other an hour later in a town that wasn’t the town I was currently in and before I went there, I needed to collect my son in a different location and somehow feed them prior within those 35 minutes. Was anyone dressed? No? Riiight. Don’t hurry kids. Take your time….

Seriously though, I don’t disagree with her. Because what she was saying is true. Don’t hurry. Please slow down. Don’t go faster. Please, STOP GROWING SO FAST!!!!!

My ten-year-old looks sixteen. This is upsetting on several levels, but mostly to me right now because I thought I’d have many more years to have a tiny child and time to enjoy before teenage-hood and all that. I was wrong. I thought my ten-year-old would be skin and bones and play with toys in a toy room and watch cartoons and be toothless and such, but it is quite the opposite. Yesterday, on my day off, I visited the Juniors section for the first time trying to find clothes that would fit her and be age appropriate for a slender beautiful body that has hips and is as tall as an adult but shouldn’t look like one yet but does and so help me… yes… please help me…. I bought plain t-shirts.

This is a good thing, you know, growing up. She is beautiful and strong and full of integrity and grit, too. But I regret that I misjudged the years I had with her as the toothless child. “Fleeting,” the old ladies would tell me in the church halls or in the mall as I couldn’t see past the 49 dirty diapers and noses I had wiped that day. They didn’t seem so fleeting back then. But now, I see that perhaps they were.

Once upon a time I heard wise women speak of “the lasts.” The idea was this: We focus so much on the firsts with our children. “Sam peed on the potty today for the first time! Elli took her first step! Fiona got her first tooth!” Do we consider that when our 10-year-old asks us to sing them to sleep tonight that it might be the last time they ask that? Will they ever ask for that story again at bedtime? Wuhhhhwahhhhhh………..right? But it is true, isn’t it? Most moms aren’t still singing their 30-year-old babies to sleep at night. It does end, doesn’t it? It is the way of things. To everything turn, turn, turn.

With that, I’d like to share with you two small thoughts that have taken shape at the forefront of my brain lately.

1.) Age ten looks nothing like I thought it would. Watch out.

2.) As a general rule, I *try* to steer clear of mom guilt. You should, too. So, from this day forward, I am choosing to enjoy the moments of childhood with my kids. I get it. The old ladies were right. These are so very precious times. And my daughter (as beautiful as she is growing to be) has taught me that this is true.

Such a late night it was with all the soccer and running around. I just kissed my big girl who is as tall as I am and wears a size 10 women’s shoe and her little sister goodnight in their bunk beds and told them no talking because it was late. My beautiful, graceful 10-year-old responded by saying, “I love you, too, Mom. Do you mind if Sophie tells me that farting story quick? It’ll only take two minutes. It’s hilarious and she adds in real farts on her arm.”

Me: “WHAT?!”

I guess we’re still good on the childhood thing a bit longer. But the answer is still NO to the farting story. Gross.