Monday, January 31, 2011

Rite of Passage

I was just reading (and commenting) on my friend Kathy's blog the other day about the difficulty of seeing your babies grow up.  Sure, it's exciting to see your children reach their appropriate developmental milestones, and it's wonderful to see the helpless little infants grow up into little people - but it's also very hard.  Bittersweet, is the word that comes to mind.  Especially for us sentimental mommies.

I think it was also Kathy who pointed out on her blog ages ago that she had reached an important milestone in her life - she had a child approaching two years old and wasn't pregnant.

Deonne and I realized that the other day - or rather, I realized it - when I discovered that I seem to be much more myself in getting the kids out and planning activities with Jack as an almost two-year old.  Well, duh - of course.  I'm not five months pregnant - am not lugging round a baby belly - and am not constantly feeling like I need to haul a bucket around with me due to never-ending-morning sickness.


How did that happen?  How did it happen that Deonne and I are approaching the end of 'baby' parenting in our life as parents?  Where did the time go?  How is is that little sweet baby Jack is no longer a baby (by any stretch of the imagination) and is rather a full-fledged toddler going on two-year old?

I suppose I'm excited about some aspects of non-baby parenting - finally cleaning out the baby bottles and training sippy cups from my cupboards and reclaiming the space for baking supplies, ending the weekly purchase of diapers and wipes, using 'real' plates and utensils for all five of us rather than the cartoon plastic ones. 

But I'm not excited about losing the soft squishy baby cheeks to kiss.  I'm not exciting about losing the way Jack fits just perfectly in my lap when he decides he actually wants to snuggle.  I'm not excited about him outgrowing his little rompers and jon-jons in lieu of 'big boy' jeans and pants. 

And I was especially not looking forward to his first hair cut.  I prolonged it as long as possible.  I kept brushing his blond locks to the side of his head in hopes I could keep his baby curls just a wee bit longer.

But when I realized that I could pull it back into a ponytail - it became inevitable that we would have to address his hair.

So on Saturday, Jack took his first real step into 'little boy' world.  His hairstylist asked - are your ready for the 'little boy' cut?  Sadly, I nodded my head in affirmation, and his sweet blond curl - the one that lived at the back of his head like a little duck tail - was snipped off.  Taped to a card.  And tucked into my jewelry box along with Anna and James' first locks.

He looks so sweet now - and is definitely a handsome little boy. 

But he's not my baby anymore.  And that makes me a little bit sad.

*Pictures to come of the big First Haircut - if I ever remember to download them off the camera to document...

1 comment:

  1. Oh, Kristin. You know I understand. I could have written this post word for word. The first haircut is always a tough one for me too. They never look the same after that. I'm sure Jack is darling as ever. But I understand...not the same.

    I'll look forward to seeing the photos. Shall I start sending daily email requests? :)