I didn’t shed a tear when I packed up my son’s newborn clothes. I didn’t feel a thing when I cut up a few of my favorite baby outfits to make into a quilt. I didn’t relate to mama who cried when their babies started daycare or moved to the toddler class or started walking.
I didn’t get it. No matter the milestone, I always felt like my kid was cool before, but wow, so much cooler after! I missed his first real steps while out of town and it was fine. “It’s not like a one-time thing!” I remarked to my colleagues. “He’ll still be walking when I get back!”
But last night, out of nowhere, I started crying.
For the first time since becoming a parent, I want to freeze time. My kid is just SO COOL right now and he’ll never be 13 months old again. We’ll likely never have a 13 month old again, and even if we do, it won’t be THIS kid.
In two weeks, he’s gone from a few tentative steps to off-roading with his new-found skill. Up hills, down hills, across gravel and all manner of debris, he’s a walker now. WE HAVE A TODDLER. We can go to parks and nature centers and playgrounds and he can partake in the fun. Life is so exciting and promises to get even more so.
And yet, my throat is all choked up and at odds with my excitement and pride. What gives?
I’m struggling with the idea of moving him to a Montessori school. I remember why we fell in love with the philosophy when I watch YouTube videos of Montessori toddler classes — something I’m doing regularly now — but he just seems so young for school. This makes no sense, of course, since it’s not unlike daycare or the sitter with whom he spends his days now. Still… ohmygodnotmybabyanymore.
I relate now. This sucks!