My first baby, Sam, was born 8 1/2 years ago. He is changing before my eyes. I don’t know how to deal with his moping-in-the-corner one minute, and calling me “Mommy” the next. For so many years, I looked forward to alone time or date night with a craving deep in my bones. The kids were so little – and I was exhausted most of the time. Now, I find myself wanting to rewind time. I can see it all unfolding before me…he’s almost 9. He’s almost half gone. My first baby.
We had a little gathering Sunday with good friends, and Sam spent most of the time sulking in another room, and I could almost feel him crawling out of his own skin. I secretly followed him around the house, wanting to give him space, but wanting a hug so badly. When he finally crawled into my lap as I was sitting at the table, I burst into tears. I miss my baby, and I desperately love the boy he’s growing into.
I guess that’s what a tween feels like…not a baby, not a teenager, but trying to hang on while still moving forward.
I feel the same exact same way.