Letting go

With your sister, it was different. I was eight months pregnant, badly nesting, and desperate to load the room with balls, bears, and everything blue. We didn't have a choice. We relocated her to a new room and a "big girl" bed at nineteen months because we had to. I remember that moment like I do so many others. It was a splash of cold water to my face that these "transitional" moments were going to come many times...and often. The formula before solids, the high chair before the booster, the pull-ups before the panties, the training wheels before the bike, and so on. I remember how I felt when I took this picture.

The second time around, it was our choice. Two weeks ago, just after you had turned twenty-two months, we did it. One screw at a time, the front side of your crib came down, as did the toddler quilt that had hung on the wall for almost two years. You and your sister couldn't wait to try out the new, all-access, bed. The two of you quickly snuggled in and had a reading session all your own. It was sweet. With Kate, I sometimes forget how young she is. Maybe it is because she is a girl. Maybe it is because she is the oldest. Maybe it is because she asks me questions at age four that I can't answer at age thirty-one. Whatever the reason, I seem to expect her to be older.

With Conor, it's different. I forget how old he is. Maybe it is because he is a boy...my boy. Maybe it is because he is the baby. Maybe it is because he has yet to speak at all. Whatever the reason, I seem to want him to stay a baby.

I

I don't know why it is harder to accept these milestones the second time around, but it is. Truth be told, I have put off this post for two weeks now, not wanting to document the milestone. Secretly hoping that you would crawl out of bed night after night and beat down the door in protest, forcing us to put your crib back together, abandoning this post for just a few more months.

Instead, I tucked you snuggly in at bedtime, layed a kiss on your cheek, and closed your door to sleep in peace. I will always remember how I felt when I took this picture.