I saw the phrase “babies don’t keep” while I was scrolling the other day. Usually I’m like, “Aw, no they don’t! Mine are growing up too fast. *cry face emoji*” Just a couple of months ago my friend called my son a “toddler” on the playground, and I panicked, “No, he’s still a baby!” But this particular day an entirely different thought crossed my mind when I saw it — do you promise?? Our family has been through a lot in the last year, my husband especially. He had emergency surgery, was back in the hospital with complications the following week, and then got a breakthrough case of COVID (pre-Omicron) despite us both being fully vaccinated. Both kids had various viruses and my personal nightmare – salmonella. PSA: wrap your babies in bubble wrap and never let them go outside! Kidding. A little. But seriously, be careful around toads. I haven’t had more than a few nights of uninterrupted sleep in over a year and a half, and lately my son has decided that from about midnight to 3 am is a great time to scream. The stress and sleep deprivation have been difficult.
My baby boy is the sweetest, snuggliest, little lovebug. He says “Mama” and “Dada” and just recently started dropping things intentionally so he could say “Uh oh!” He squeals and runs as fast as his chubby little legs can carry him to Daddy when he gets home from work. He gives the funniest side eye. He loves “helping” with laundry and building fires in the fireplace (he carries a small stick), bringing me books to read to him, and thinks it’s hilarious to escape the bathtub and toddle off nekkid. He blows kisses and says “bye!” to me at night when I lay him down in his crib. But man, we’re still in the thick of the anxiety of protecting a baby – okay, fine, he’s probably a toddler now – bent on self-destructive exploration. It’s worse with a second child because he’s got an older accomplice who will give him a boost when he’s trying to climb things, and there are toys around that aren’t age appropriate for him. We’re constantly trying to make sure that the bathroom door is closed, the trash can is locked, the baby gates on the stairs are locked, tiny toys and choking hazards are off the ground, round foods are cut or squished, sharp corners and electrical outlets are covered, and other dangerous things are inaccessible. And despite my best efforts, my baby still got sick with salmonella. It’s an awful feeling.
My daughter on the other hand is four years old and in such a fun stage. This age has its challenges, but she’s so creative, and I love listening to the stories she comes up with and watching the games she plays. She knows how to open doors and the baby gates, but I’m not concerned about her getting into the trash can or putting something dangerous in her mouth. She’s able to go play by herself in her room whenever she wants and will happily spend hours playing with small figurines and building houses and castles with Magnatiles. Watching her brings back my own memories of playing Barbies and using shoes as cars and those round pizza savers as tables (if you know, you know). She also loves art and will have a blast with a coloring book and a set of washable markers or watercolor paints. She puts her baby dolls and stuffies to sleep all over the house using anything she can find. She has daily quiet time in the afternoons, but rarely naps. I’m not worried about wake windows or messed up nap schedules making bedtime a nightmare. She loves picnics in the backyard, playing dress up, and dancing. She’s the coolest kid and constantly surprises me with the things that she understands and the words she knows. I am LOVING this age.
That’s why I’m not sad about my baby growing up. Yes, I will absolutely miss his chunky baby belly and booty dimples. I will miss his sweet gummy smiles and squeals. I will miss the way he says “mama” and still *mostly* fits in my lap while nursing. But I won’t miss dreading going to sleep because I know I’ll be woken up in just a couple of hours. I won’t miss wondering how many times I’m going to be up that night or how long it’s going to take me to get him back to sleep once he’s up. I won’t miss changing diapers. I won’t miss being the sole source of his night-time nutrition and comfort. I won’t miss the stomach dropping feeling of realizing that he’s gotten into his sister’s toys, and I can’t immediately account for all the small pieces. I won’t miss him putting EVERYTHING in his mouth.
Babies don’t keep, but little kids are pretty fun too.
