To My Handsome Little Man…
and I’m falling behind.
You’re learning to talk more and more every day, and I’m completely amazed by all you know. You’ve started to count to ten, all by yourself. Every single day you learn a new word and astonish me with how unbelievably smart and independent you are now. One of these days you’re going to wake up and start talking in complete sentences, and I don’t know what I’ll do.
|Related: Another Post in the Letters to Jackson Series|
It’s like I closed my eyes and you shot up overnight. It feels like just the other day you took your first steps and I cried so hard; I was so unbelievably proud of you. Now you’re running around and walking up and down the stairs and jumping off the couch! You give me a heart attack every time you almost clip your head on the kitchen counter. You’re so tall, you look like you’re four years old! It’s hard for me to remember that you’re only 2 1/2! You’re so independent and mature already, sometimes I forget that you’re still my baby boy; he’s in there somewhere. There are so many things you want to do for yourself that it makes you seem so much older.
I feel like I’m clinging so hard to the baby you used to be, and still are sometimes; like when you crawl into my lap and cuddle into the crook of my arm. You used to fit so well there, now you take up a whole seat on the couch! I worry that I am holding you back from growing up because I desperately want you to stay my little baby boy. I catch myself trying to stop you from doing things for yourself, and I have to stop and remind myself that you’re not a baby anymore. You’re perfectly capable of doing most of the things you so desperately want to do; like carrying your plate or cup to the table.
The other night we stood in the kitchen and made dinner together… You stirred the noodles in the pan and pointed to the burner to tell me it was hot. You stood on a chair and pointed for the butter to put in the pan and you looked so grown up. You’re so unbelievably smart and observant; you never miss a thing that I do. I almost started to cry. You’re always watching me and learning from me. A few nights after that, you helped make your very own scrambled eggs for breakfast. To think that you were once so little that you fit into the crook of my arm while I made my own breakfast breaks my heart and makes it so full, all at once.
| Related Blog Post | 12 Things To Make Sure
You Tell Your Little One More Often
There was a time when I was so eager for you to grow and learn more. I couldn’t wait for you to start talking so I could ask you about your day and learn more about you! I couldn’t wait until you could communicate with me because I knew things would get a little easier. And I still am eager, but now I wish time would just slow down a little and we could enjoy just a few more days together. I wish we could go back to when you were just a baby, who wanted to cuddle in bed all day and hold my hand. Now I’m lucky if we can sit for five minutes before you’re off and onto the next thing. I miss my baby who babbled sweet little baby talk and crawled around on the carpet. Now you’re so grown up already, and it’s only been two years. You like to walk by yourself and push my hand away when I offer to help. And I want to cry, because I miss holding your little hand so much. It’s a rare, beautiful moment when you reach for my hand and walk by my side.
Once you start talking, my little baby will really be gone and you’ll be so much older in my head. I pulled out a pair of jeans for you that I’ve been saving for almost a year, waiting for you to grow into them. They finally fit, and it was like all the sudden you were a boy instead of a baby, standing there in your big boy jeans. Soon you’ll practically be a little man, running around and carrying on conversations, speaking in long-winded paragraphs and telling me all about your day. And I am so excited for that; you have no idea.
|New Blog Post | 15+ Ways To Let
Your Toddler Be More Independent
I can’t wait to teach you so many things and watch you continue to grow. But I really wish we could rewind and relive those little days that were so much simpler. I miss my baby so much. Not because I miss having a baby, because those days are hard in their own way, just like these days are hard. It never really gets easier, it just changes and it’s a different kind of hard. But I have to remind myself that my baby is still in there, and I get a glimpse of him every once and awhile. Like when you pinch your finger or hit your head and you come running for me. Or when you wake up in the middle of the night because of a bad dream and you call for me. My baby is still there, and he always will be. And I’m so proud of the little man you’ve already become.
I know I can’t hold you back any longer, no matter how much I miss those little baby days. I have to start letting you dress yourself, even though it takes longer. I have to let you make your own decisions about what you’d like to eat or drink or wear, so that you’ll learn that you have a choice. I have to let you start to carry your own food to the table, even though you may drop it or spill. I have to show you how to buckle your own seat belt, encourage and cultivate your independence, so that you’ll know how amazing and perfectly capable you are. I will have to watch you walk ahead of me and let you lead the way, so that you’ll learn that you can accomplish amazing things!
|In case you missed it… Check out the first post in this blog series!|
I realize that I have to let go, and let you grow up if you’re ever to become who you’re supposed to be. I have to give up control and let you make your own messes. I have to let you learn and make your own mistakes if you’re ever going to learn to clean up your mess. Part of my job is raising a little soul who knows how to take care of himself, and the hardest part of that job is letting go enough and giving you the freedom to take the reins.
|Our next post in the series | Guest Post by
It was easy to let go and let you brush your own teeth and hair. It was easy to let you help with the dishes and the laundry, and it was so much fun to watch you help with dinner. But up next are the hard things, like letting you dress and bathe yourself. Next, you’ll want to get yourself in the car and you won’t need me for that. Pretty soon you’ll be making your own breakfast and you won’t need my help with the milk.
My little baby is growing up, and it’s my job to help you succeed in every which way possible. I’m not ready for you to grow up anymore, but it doesn’t matter if I’m ready. What matters is that you’re ready, and while I’ll always mourn the loss of my little baby boy, I am so unbelievably proud of the little man you’ve become.