Every once in a while, I get sucker punched in this mama-world. Something happens and it feels like the kids leap forward. Time jumps.
Saturday morning, Issa was sitting on the opposite end of the couch from me and I really saw her. There is no baby face left. None. Suddenly she looked more a tween than my baby, and my heart skipped a beat. I've never thrown myself into a game of Go Fish quite as much. The days when she wants to play these games are fleeting, and I relished every hunt for a number.
As if that was not enough, our little slugger walked through the door with his first sport's injury just a bit later:
It was no wonder that I finally cracked when the school called with a few reminders, including the dates for kindergarten registration. We still have a year, but it was just too much to envision my baby headed off in just one more year.
I've said it before, but motherhood is not for the weak. I always find I have more than enough strength for the tough stuff--the illnesses and injuries, the hurt feelings, the big questions. It's the joy, the milestones, that sometimes takes the most strength. With each triumph they hop just a little bit farther away. And while I beam with pride and celebrate with them, I still find myself stifling the gasp and clinging to the snuggle just a little bit longer.