When we welcomed our sweet little boy into the world, our lives were forever changed. He came three weeks early, completely unexpected, and nose first. The way this boy entered the world should have been an indication of how he would live in it: fast-paced, determined beyond measure, and unrelenting.
A few days ago, it hit me just how big my son had gotten. As his mama, in the haze that is our busy day-to-day lives, I failed to realize just how much he had grown. He laid in my queen sized bed as I ninja rolled out of it after cuddling him to sleep. As I normally would, I fluffed the pillows around him to create a barrier, to prevent any spills off the bed.
And then I stepped back. For the first time in I don’t know how long, this mama really looked at her son. How tall he had gotten. How the baby fat was no longer in existence on his once-chubby legs. My son had lost his rolls of baby fat earlier than most kids do, but for some reason, it really hit me in that moment.
When my son is awake, he is comparable to a wrecking ball. If there is anything that can be pulled down, taken out, or touched, you can bet that he will be the first to do so. He is also the mini king of head butts, kicking, and flailing arms. More than once, and more than I would like to admit, I’ve wondered if he caused a broken nose or cracked cheek bone. While most of these “injuries” are caused by accident on my toddler’s end, I can’t help but become irritated and reprimand him in some way. That moment of frustration usually results in me raising my voice at my innocent, precious little boy.
These moments occur so often, and I have slowly learned to take a step back and breathe. Just breathe.
Today, I am the punching bag and boxing dummy.
Tomorrow, I will be without the constant company of my little boxer.
It is hard to imagine that one day, my little boy won’t be so little anymore. It’s difficult to think about him leaving our home and beginning a life of his own. I wish the absolute best for my son—my hopes for him are higher than the sky—but I can’t help but wish he stayed little for just a tiny bit longer. Yes, the days are rough and the nights are long. But the years are short and pass in the blink of an eye. Before I’ll even realize it, I will not be feeling these kicks and bruises that he gives me every single day.
One day, I just may miss being the punching bag. I may miss the constant toddler-caused injuries that make me wonder if I should check for blood or not.
These days, I know my baby is there and relies on me for everything. He is gaining his independence, more and more by the minute. He is becoming a kid and is quickly leaving his toddler stage. I can’t help but start to miss my little boy, even though he is still right next to me. One day, I will miss his rambunctious behavior more than he will ever know. My son will be an ambitious, independent child and will no longer be on my hip 24/7.
As much as his overly-energetic, rowdy behavior causes me frustration, before I realize it, I will miss it. I will miss his lack of volume control and the noise within our home. I will miss his little body crawling all over me while I’m asking him to stop. I will miss his relentless ambition and need to be everywhere all at once.
While the days and nights seem never-ending, the toddler years are short. Before you know it, your little baby is all grown up and you’ll be missing the little day-to-day matters.
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