I look at Joshua as we go through the day, and am suddenly and overwhelmingly filled with wonder at just how big he is. When did his little arms and legs get so long?? When did he become so articulate?? I hear other parents talk about how they'd like to stop their kids from growing anymore, and enjoy them at this age forever (whatever age they may be). And honestly, this is the first time in Joshua's 2 1/2 years that I've felt that way. I've so enjoyed watching him grow, and anticipating what comes next, that I haven't felt like I've missed out on anything, or that it's been going too fast. But now, as his stretched out little body fills the bathtub, I'm suddenly wondering where it's all gone. We've jumped from a squiggly little newborn to this real, live person. When did that happen?I love babies. Really and truly. But it's not my favorite part. Am I supposed to say that? I mean, I think that the cuteness is wonderful, and they are precious, and spectacularly made . . . but I can do without the endless days and nights of poopy diapers and nursing, with only little breaks here and there for laying and staring and looking cute. Now that Joshua's such a kid, he's so much fun. We go everywhere without the stroller and diaper bag, which has made it so much easier to get out. And he obeys so well (okay, mostly anyway) that we don't constantly chase him and nag him about everything. What a sigh of relief I've been breathing!
Our conversations are . . . well, fun and a little clever now, too. Joshua is so spontaneously sweet, it catches me off guard sometimes. Today we were at McDonald's, and he came over and hugged my leg, patted me a little, and said in a gentle and sing-songy voice, "Don't worry, Mama, I'll keep you safe." I got a little teary (I am, don't forget, 33 weeks pregnant), and said, "Oh thank you, Joshua, I'll keep you so safe, too." Boy do I want to try to do just that.
Isn't it a hard line between nurturing and smothering? I want Joshua to be brave enough to climb in the (germ infested, but that's for another time) McDonald's tunnels without Daddy in there with him, but at the same time, it scares me to death that there are other kids running around who might -gasp- be mean to him. My heart breaks in two when he speaks so kindly and earnestly to other kids around him, who then ignore and run right past him. Or when we're talking after McDonald's, and he tells me "Those kids were not speaking nicely. That boy pinched Joshua like that," and he shows me how his cheek was pinched. My blood boils a little at that point, and I start grilling him (because maybe it was innocent, or maybe somebody really was being mean) about just how he was pinched, and did it hurt, and did the boy say sorry, and yada yada yada. We go over what he should do when these things happen, and later when I tell Tim, he wonders why I didn't tell Joshua to pinch the boy back. What a fine line, isn't it?At least Joshua can tell us (and so well, I might add) what he's thinking and feeling, and what's happening around him. He hugs me gently and says, "You are beautiful, Mama . . . you are wonderful." He runs vibrantly into the kitchen and tells Tim as he's leaving, "I will miss you, Daddy, at work." Or on a sadder note, over the phone, "I going to cry because I miss you, Daddy." He even gets a bit feisty because, for some reason we can't understand, when we're driving in the car, Tim and I are NOT allowed to dance, sing, hum, whistle, or anything else having to do with the stereo. So he'll say, "No, Mama, stop doing that." And I have to sit still and quiet and try not to move too much while driving. Today was a new one, actually, when he told me, "No, Mama, no tapping your finger like that," when I was tapping on the steering wheel to the music. What a feisty, finicky, loving, sweet, boisterous, big boy we have on our hands here.
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