I know I just posted about letting clothing go…or rather about not letting them go. So this might seem redundant, but we keep running into these markers – these reminders that time moves swiftly and takes sweet things away when it leaves…
And don’t get me wrong – this is in no way an admission of any sort of love for diapers or diaper changing…but this week we said goodbye to Quint’s diaper changing pad. And just like that, his dresser became a fully functioning, big-boy space. I was looking forward to it – to not changing diapers. And suddenly, he was potty trained and we had no need for that pad. No need to place him up there and get him dressed or cleaned up. Just no need for it anymore. You see, he can do those things now. He still needs our help, of course. But diapers are a thing of the past for him. And I’m so proud…but I’m sorry to see his babyhood leaving us. No more crib. No more diapers. No more sippy cups. No more…just leaving. Leaving me.
While I speak of coming to terms, can anyone tell me? Am I ever going to come to terms with this mess? No, for real-sies. Is this seriously my toll to pay in the parenting track? If so, just level with me. Because I am chasing messes all day long – and it’s going to make me a hairy monster. A hairy mommy monster. Just a mommy monster. I don’t know what the hair bit is about. I don’t even know why I said “hairy”. It’s not like I’m all hairy and stuff.
It’s not the point.
The point is, seriously? This mess is part of that emancipation “play in your room away from Mom” thing – and I love that they play in there and go all monkey or whatever – but I am still coming to terms with the tornado affect. Oh, and it comes out of the room. Into all other areas. I found the LEG of a Scooby Doo figure in my dresser. The leg, people. In my dresser.
This mothering gig? I’m still coming to terms with so much of it.