This Other Thing I Didn't Know About Motherhood

There's something I didn't know about motherhood.

(Well, there were and are a million things.)

But, this one is everyday now. It's this always present, always pang, always tug and grip on my heart.

It goes like this:

I want my kids to grow up. But, only a little.

I want my kids to grow up. I do. I love watching them change from squeaky newborn to cooing infant to house-wrecker toddler to "I do it" preschooler to "look back at you and wave goodbye" Kindergartner to OMG - I have a tween who ONLY wants skinny jeans and boxer shorts, people.

But, man, I don't want to let them go. Mayor of Denial City over here. I see them changing. And, I just wanna crawl in the corner and weep over how babies become bigs and bigs used to be babies and my older friends tell me that NINE is so little and I'll look back on them at this age and realize they WERE just babies and I had it all wrong thinking they were anything but.

Today, I saw my nine year-old carrying my one year-old baby, and he asked me:

"Mom, can I take her up for her nap this time?"

And, there before me was this other thing I didn't know about motherhood:

When they grow up, they want to help you.

Like really help you. In this amazing and proud and moving way. Maybe it should've been obvious. Maybe it's because my first four children are boys and I'd heard that when girls are oldest, they are born to mother and they'll help you and care for the littles and I just never saw my boys as my helpers. Maybe it's because I get in this "It's all on me" mode and the process of them "helping" is harder than just getting it done.

But, whatever the reasons, as I watched my first son - my blue-eyed, skinny-jeans, boxer shorts, "I'm growing my hair out cause I like the way it swooshes" - carrying his baby sister over to me, I almost jumped up to grab her: "Wait, no. I'll do it."

But, instead - I stopped. I'm not even sure why:

"Yes. I would sure love that, bud."

And, he smiled so big, arms full of sleepy baby girl, and headed for the steps.

So proud.
So willing.
So grown up.

As I listened to him, mimicking me from inside her room: "Here's your blanket, girl. Here's your tiny baby. No, no - don't cry because I'm coming back when you wake up..."

This growing up thing didn't sting as much.

I have a helper.

Who is watching me, and wanting to be big, and begging me to let him. Who is learning to serve and love his family in little and big ways with a willing heart.

If this is growing up, I think I'm ready to let go a little.