Tate is just over 50 pounds now...he's still lanky, all arms and legs. Just the skinniest little boy. I can still pick him up and cuddle him....mmmmm I love that feeling.
But I know these days and times of being able to pick him up are fleeting. We're almost to the last time I'll be able to swing him up into my arms and when I realized this last week I realized that there have been a whole string of last times.
More importantly, last times that I didn't know were the last times, so I paid no attention.
The last time I nursed him in the rocking chair.
The last time I nursed him in my bed.
The last time I carried him up to bed from the carseat.
The last time he used his British accent after too many 'Thomas the Train' episodes.
The last time only I could understand what he was saying.
The last time he used sign language to communicate.
The last time I carried him on my hip because he wasn't the least bit mobile.
The last time I had to hold his hand to help him up the stairs.
The last time I had to help him put on his clothes.
The last time he patted my back as we hugged.
I commemorated all the firsts...first laugh, first real tears, first time to walk or turn over or crawl. I wrote down when he got his first tooth, lost his first tooth, when and what his first words were and his first kiss for me. I remember most of those firsts through the haze of a mother's exhaustion, love and sleep deprivation.
It's the lasts that escape our attention. We move from the highchair to the booster to the chair with nary a thought. We move from the car seat to the booster with no looking back. He stops calling you Mommy and it becomes Mom or worse Dude (thankfully we're not here yet!).
I've got several close friends whose children are graduating high school this year, and they're commemorating all the lasts...last day of class, last day of finals, last high school football game, last school dance, last night under your parents roof as their 'child.'
How do we lose all those special moments in between? Why don't we recognize that each step our child takes on this planet are steps towards the last time? I'm missing on so much of the present worrying so much about Tate's future that I'm missing the precious lasts. Because if I do my job right raising this amazing little boy there will be a last night in our home together. Though I know I'll never forget that night, I need to learn to savor all these last moments in between.
So each time I pick him up from now I think I may hang on just a bit longer just in case it's the last time.
2 comments:
What a sweet post Jenn. You are right to think about savoring those lasts. Some of them, at least. I'm looking forward to the last time I have to deal with a wet pull up!
Hey! How are you? :) Your blog is really an inspiration to many women who wish to be single moms. I'm only 22 years old, but in my head there is only the idea of being single mom. No man .. Thank you very much for your sharing. Great kisses from Portugal!
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