Thoughts and Memories

I am currently working on Isaac's second year scrapbook. I spent some time tonight making a page about his first birthday and how we celebrated. I got to thinking about the past 17 months and it is just so hard to believe that he is so big. At this time last year, he was only 5 months old. He was not crawling. He was barely sitting up and still didn't sleep through the night. He didn't have any teeth and he didn't talk (at least not in words). At his first birthday, I couldn't believe that we had made it through his first year. It was hard but we loved it. Even when we hated it. Even when we were so exhausted and sleep deprived that we didn't know how we were going to get through a day let alone a year. Once I figured out this whole Mommy thing, it got way easier. I was better able to juggle my time at work and my time with Isaac. I had a rough year that first year. Peter coaches (which most of you know) football and bowling. Two seasons in a row and they both happened to be at the beginning of Isaac's life. I resented the sports for a long time. I hated the fact that he wasn't here to help me. However, (and Peter you are not allowed to use this against me in any way) at times, it seems like the times when I had to be alone and parenting on my own allowed me to form a very special bond with my son. Peter has his thing with Isaac too, don't get me wrong. I just feel like being alone with him really forced me to figure everything out and make decisions. Most of you know, or if you haven't realized it yet, you will, that I have a hard time making decisions. I don't want to make a mistake. I want to do the right thing and I worry that I won't. Every decision I had to make on my own with Isaac was agonizing. Sometimes it still is but I'm learning that I'm pretty good at this Mommy thing. I have a VERY happy, healthy little boy. He is so special and bright. I have so much fun with him whenever we are together. I'll even admit that I don't mind when he is whiny and just wants to be held. I don't mind making dinner with one hand. It's hard and a major pain in the butt but it's so worth it.

Well, I was thinking about all of this and trying to figure out why I have these bittersweet emotions when I realized that I miss my tiny baby sometimes. I don't know how my parents have gotten through the 28, almost 29 years of my life without breaking down and crying. Maybe they have and just haven't let me know about it. It makes me think of when I went away to college. I was focused on how great it was going to be and I was so excited. My parents and Lisa drove me up there and helped me move all my stuff in. Once everything was in my dorm room we went out for lunch. Everything was great. I wasn't nervous or worried at all. I did not think that I would be homesick. I thought it was going to be great. I was right. It was great. The one thing I didn't take into consideration, was my parents and the things they were feeling. After we ate lunch, they drove me back to the dorms. It was so crowded with people that we had to say goodbye in the car. My mom was sitting in the back with me. She gave me a hug and started crying. I had the hardest time getting out of that car. I didn't want her to be sad. I knew that it would be okay but this feeling landed in the pit of my stomach. I was suddenly scared. It was suddenly real. I was going to get out of that car, my parents were going to drive off and I would be alone. For the first time in my life, I was going to be in charge of my life without anyone there to tell me if I was doing the right thing. I had to get out of the car. Other people were waiting for my parents to move. So, I got out and waved goodbye. My mom and my sister were crying. I was close to tears. I went back into my dorm room and I just sat there. Then I started to unpack. After awhile, Peter called me and kept me busy for the rest of the day. He made it easier. Eventually, I got used to being on my own. I wonder if my parents got used to me being on my own or if they look at me now with my own baby and just get that bittersweet feeling in the pit of their stomachs. My son is only 17 months. This feeling just gets stronger every time he does something new. Every milestone and every accomplishment sends a feeling of pride and a little bit of loss through me. Don't get me wrong, I don't want him to stop growing up. I just feel a little tug of losing my baby. I know he's still a baby and will always be my baby but he's growing up and it's going too fast. How do you handle it?

I think that handling him growing up is two sided. On one hand, I'm losing the little being that depended on me for every single need. On the other hand, I'm gaining this little person who is so much like me and his father it is scary. He becomes more independent every day and I know that I'm raising a smart, self reliant little person. I'm proud of that but I miss the days when he wouldn't stop crying unless I was holding him in the rocking chair. I didn't know that I should enjoy that as much as possible. People tell you to but you are so wrapped up in everything else that is going on or that needs to get done and isn't that you end up not enjoying it as much as you should. It doesn't take long and it's gone.

Well, I have purged enough emotions for one night. I should get some sleep so that I am not sleep deprived this weekend. I'm sure Peter would like it if I was actually interested in leaving our house for a little while!

Thanks for listening!