So God Made a Mother Collection ➔

So, I don’t know if I’ve told you before, but I. Love. Onesies.

They’re perfect. They cover the diaper so that toddlers can’t dig in it. They keep the belly nice and warm and covered when baby is always being picked up or doing cartwheels off the couch. They have those nifty shoulders where when they have a poop explosion we don’t have to wipe it all over their heads getting it off. (Thank you Facebook, for that super late (for many parents) viral post).

Onesies = the perfect newborn, infant, baby, toddler wardrobe.

Now, I want to know how in the world I got to the end of the onesie rope?!?

I could sob.

Like literally break down and ugly cry.

I was in Babies R Us the other day, after having convinced Hubby that Baby Boy needs more onesies because the last pack we got him were immediately destroyed by spaghetti sauce and blueberries (not at the same time, believe it or not). I looked and looked and prayed and looked some more and those dang onesies only go to 24 months!

Why in the world would you not want your two+ year old to still be in onesies?

I say that a little tongue in cheek, but at the same time my heart is breaking into a thousand pieces.

I also say that a little tongue in cheek.

But only a little.

How did my Baby Boy, my sweet first baby, get to be well on his way to 2 years old? It was just yesterday we were having such horrible nursing issues, his first (accidental) word was ‘hi’ (which he has never said again), and he was wanting to walk before he even had rolling over down. This, this is exactly why parents standing at the altar with their precious baby can’t understand how they’re actually in that moment, marrying off that baby right now. They’re still supposed to be in a car seat!

So I bought one pack of 24 month onesies. And they barely fit him. I’m going to try to savor this time, but I know that before I know it, I’m going to be experiencing these same emotions for Baby Girl. Gosh… I feel that ugly cry coming on again.

So, some wise words to end this post… don’t blink, Mama. Seriously. Use toothpicks, or duct tape if you have to. (Scotch tape would blend more easily with makeup, if you’re one of those amazing mamas that actually wears it.) Keep a bottle of saline around, squirt those eyeballs every once in a while and you should be good. Those late, late night feedings? Those times you wish with all your might that you could collapse back into bed (heck, the hard, cold floor would do) and not have to deal with crying babies or tantruming toddlers? Savor them. Think about how before you invested in scotch tape you blinked and it changed years. And then think about how overwhelmingly thankful you are for these precious little moments with these precious little ones. Try to take in every little sleepy cuddle, toothy smile, and mischievous twinkle in their eye when they see you and want to play. Linger, Mama. Hold them a minute longer. Tickle them a minute longer. Look them in the eye and study their sweet little features as they explain something complicated to you in their own language a little longer. Play and chase them around the house and soak up those contagious baby giggles a minute longer. You’ll never regret it.

Are you or did you savor the end of your onesie era or did you blast into T-shirt time with a smile on your face, not looking back? Seriously, are you in my club or not?

Tiffany Houseman

Tiffany is Mama to two awesome, sweet little ones, one boy, one girl, and wife to an amazingly talented guy who can do/fix anything - from complex IT issues to major whole-house renovations to cooking a gourmet meal. They live in WNY, and can't wait to move out to the country. She spends her days changing diapers, chasing a toddler, doting on/nursing a newborn, playing house (in real life), and hitting replay on Disney movies so she can share mamahood encouragement, real food recipes and marriage musings over at Wholesome Housewife. As a bought and paid for sinner saved by Jesus' sacrifice, she hopes to remind other mamas that God cares about our work, and to be someone to relate to and laugh with hysterically as we all trip through this thing called being Mama.

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