Finality of Babyhood

As this school year ends, I cannot believe that this coming year I will have a second year preschooler and a first grader. It hurts my heart to even type this. I know that I will have three mornings to myself, and that I always talk about having no time for myself, but somehow that feels lonely. For nearly seven years I have had one or both boys with me. It's going to feel weird being just me. I know I'll probably get used to, but it will take some time.



The real heartache will be when Tot goes to kindergarten and then first grade. I don't know what I will do then. I know I'm getting ahead of myself here, but I'm a worrier by nature.



I am looking for a summertime sitter, which kind of goes against the feelings I've just described. So far I have one candidate that sounds great. She's a fifth grade teacher with a master's degree who wants to earn some exta money in the summer. You know, us teachers don't make a lot of money! She also has babysat for a friend of mine whom I haven't seen in a long time but like. My friend is listed as a reference. I used SitterCity to find some one who will even watch the boys on a Saturday since Hubby and I rarely get out by ourselves anymore. We need to get connected again.



A few Saturdays ago we dropped off our crib and changing table. I thought since it was hard for me to even take down the crib, that I would be fine when we dropped it off. I mean we donated it to a wonderful charity. They were so surprised that they were in good condition. As we took the crib parts out of the car, I remembered the day we picked them out. I always wanted a sleigh crib in the exact color they had. It was perfect! That day was so exciting as was picking out the bedding and decorations for the room. Getting all the baby clothes washed and put away from our shower was so surreal. It took us a long time to get pregnant that it didn't seem like a baby would be sleeping in that crib! And now I had folded up that bedding and handed it to the woman who runs the charity. We rolled in that matching changing table, and gave them the bolts to help them put it back together...for someone else.



I guess all good things come to an end. It is just so surprising to me that I'm not the young mom. I'm the older mom, the experienced mom. And while that feels good sometimes, it also feels final. No more babies, no more cribs, no more sweetsmelling skin. Onto boyhood with all of those boy smells. I guess life goes on no matter how we try to freeze a moment in time. Now I just need to accept this.