Yesterday a hole in a sock made me cry.
Well, not cry like I was a sobbing mess, but I teared up.
It really wasn't the hole in the sock that made me cry (is it ever?). It was all the things that led up to the discovery of the hole in the sock.
Last week was my son's birthday. For his birthday he got a toddler bed. So we spent Sunday reorganizing his room, taking down the crib, and setting up his new "big boy" bed.
This started me down the path of tears.
No more crib means no more babies. And no more babies is hard to imagine. Having two babies so close together made me feel like the baby stage would never be over.
But then, over the span of just a couple of hours, it was.
So, that was Sunday.
A couple of days later I was doing laundry. And I found it. The hole in my daughter's sock.
It wasn't the first hole, and won't be the last, but it hit me harder than the previous holes. It was another sign. My babies are growing up.
I spent the first years of their lives just waiting for the next phase. Waiting for things to calm down a little, waiting for the chaos to lessen. First it was waiting for them to sleep better. Then it was waiting for them to be done with the bottle. Waiting for them be out of diapers. Waiting for them to get along and play together better (that I am still waiting for). Just waiting and always wanting the next phase, because it must be better.
Well, another "new" phase is here. And suddenly I'm yearning for the bottle-feeding, diaper-wearing, little nuggets that I could hold whenever I wanted.
So, today I will try to appreciate the phase we are in...the phase with two 3-year-olds.
Lord, help me.
xo Sara
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