Lately I’ve been so busy with work and seminars that I forget to enjoy my time with my kids at home. By the time I get home, they have already eaten their dinners so I missed out on dinner conversations. Then tonight as I watched my kids shower, I realized how tall they are. My two older ones are long and lanky. I remember when my daughter was only a head taller than my oldest son. Now, she’s only 3/4 of a head taller than he is. He has grown. They no longer need me to help them shower. They don’t even need me to help them into and out of the shower, much less to dry them. I’m just the teeth brusher and flosser.
As I help my youngest pee before bedtime, I realize I don’t have to help him tippy toe anymore onto the toilet. He’s tall enough to hold himself and aim correctly. As reality hits me, I had to take a good look at my baby. He’s so big. His hair is longer, his face losing the baby fat, his broken leg is back to its normal size, his shirt is a little too tight for his body, his pants are shorter, and his constant “Why, Mama, why?” is no longer with a twang. My kids are growing up or I’m just getting older. I’m not ready for either one. As the years pass by and the moon continues to shine each night, I feel so blessed to have my little family.
I know one day they will leave me for college and probably won’t come back home to live. They will start their own lives and families. They will have their adventures and reminisce about their childhood. I hope when they flashback, they remember all the fun and mundane things we did together as a family. I hope I didn’t traumatize them about dental hygiene by repeating Dr. Seuss’s The Tooth Book about “Billy Billings with fifty fillings…” I hope they remember their manners when they’re out and about. I hope they make good/right decisions when face with adversities/peer pressures/controversies. There are so many things I wish for my children, but the one thing that I really do wish for them is that they will always be happy.