babies...God's miraculous gift to this world. My youngest sister and her husband have recently blessed our family with a bright-eyed, wide grinned, perfect baby boy. He's perfectly handsome and just right-- what a joy it is to watch my sister shine in motherhood. (she musta learned from her sisters)
Before I became a momma I had the priviledge to scope out a lot of other momma's skills. My middle sister.....friends....even strangers.
How they loved their babes, I could only guess. How they worked and raised a family, I had no clue the mystery. How they held it together...I assumed was not that big of ordeal. Come on now after all...I grew up with two younger sisters...I babysat through highschool.....went away as a nanny...not once but three times. I was an aunt to my middle sisters glowing little girls. On top of all that-- I instructed and managed classrooms of other peoples' babies. I could do this!
Today, my youngest sister, so yearning to keep her little man a small bundle, asked, "Do you ever wish Carrson was still a baby?" I quickly replied-- "No, It's so nice to hear my baby now tell me I look pretty even with huge, velcro rollers in my hair!"
Spiraling thoughts then whirled in my mind. Bittersweet this mothering thing is--I do somewhat wish I could still secure them so tightly on my chest in the Baby Bjorn for there I was their feet they didn't fall and get bruises--I could turn their perfect faces toward me to shield them from imperfections of this world. I could decide the what's and the how's.
Hind sight is always perfection. Maybe I would try not to be so uptight and anxious about so many trivial issues...but as these boys grow I love them more and more. We're bonded now in a snug way that's different from the baby bonds that occured in the Baby Bjorn. I could never prepare myself for this connection....ever.
So, to my sister Amanda who I'm so glad asked me the question.....No (sigh) (breathe) I can say I'm glad my boys are growing into their own. Afterall, they both know they will ALWAYS be my babies.
