Wonder of Wonders --Miracles of Miracles

Last Sunday, I met an old friend for brunch.  She recently had a baby (her second after a 19-year gap--long but good story for another day).  He's so cuddly, sticky, drooly, chunky, gotta squeeze his cheeks!  I was enthralled with this baby, and so is she.  I love how she appreciates the time she has with him, and she's over the moon about his every move.  It was like I was transported back to the days when the twins were little babies and I could not get enough of their cooing, emerging personalites.  T2 used to bounce in that vibrating bouncy seat for hours--long after she was too big for it; T1 had a perpetual third eye in the middle of his forehead when he turned 1 from crashing into the couch edge in an overzealous effort to run.  I was nostalgic for my babies and the time when discoveries were happening in every hour of the day.  I loved watching them change and grow daily.

As they've grown, I've learned that changes happen at differently at every developmental stage.  Sometimes these changes are monumental -- wiping their own bottoms! --buckling their own seat belts!  Sometimes they are colossal challenges.  And each time I think I've got this mommy thing figured out, it changes again. 

And sometimes, they surprise me with a wonderful change that I could not have seen coming even if it was a freight train heading right toward me.  Remember this I posted about 2 weeks ago?

Here's how it looked when I got home from  brunch on Sunday afternoon.

All on his own, unprompted, T1 CLEANED his own room!  He organized the items on the desk. (notice the ordered bowling pins?  My dad's league bowling trophies in chronological order) Yes, people, he even threw some things away.  My little man is growing up, and oh, how I hope this desire for neatness sticks, even if it's just every once in a while.

Not to be outdone, and because she cannot ever resist any competition, T2 cleaned her own room too.  Witness the before and after:

B

Before

After

I entered their rooms with my eyes closed when they wanted to show me what they'd done.  Proud smiles emblazoned across their faces.  This was something they did without me or my husband asking or nagging.  It was something they did not wait for us to take care of for them.  And wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, they found buried new things to play with.  And the world opened up anew, magically, just as when they, as babies, discovered they could crawl to the brightly colored toy across the room.

I'll take this magic any time they want to cast a spell my way.

Ahhh, they're asleep.....

I love watching my children as they sleep. They are so serene, so peaceful. I place my hand on their faces and arms and I long for the days when I held their little bodies. Their warm baby breathing, the feel of their chests rising and falling in my arms reassured me that they were alive--that I really was a mother.


Now I can no longer cradle them the way I did. Oh, but I try. Their long, bony arms and legs poke me and prod me, but as soon as it's begun, it's over. They're off to play or ride scooters, anything but be with mom.

When they were toddlers, I was sure my twins would always need me. I scooped them up when they fell; every wail, "Mommmmmeeeeeee" was always followed by me hovering with my hands outstretched and back hunched over making sure they didn't fall into anything or break anything. It was like triage. Who was in the most danger? One twin would hopefully not get hurt while I tended to the other. I yearned for a break, screamed for it. "When will this ever end?!?"

It did. Their wiggly toddler bodies that I used to prop up on both hips like saddle bags, grew up.



It occurs to me now, as I marvel at the changes in their sleeping faces, that I can't scoop them up anymore. I can't carry them, and the break I desperately wanted is bittersweet. Sometimes I crawl in bed with each one. I get close to feel their breathing, to remember that luscious, baby cuddle. It's like that book, I Love You Forever. I will hold them close as much as I can for as long as I can, all the while knowing one day too, this will end. Hug those babies, people.