I finally had had enough. I pulled off my youngest twin’s pull up and said we’re going cold turkey. It turns out he was more ready for it than I was.
It was easy for him. After the first day, he easily transitioned from pull ups to briefs. It was astounding to me because if you would have asked me before I started, I would have said he wasn’t ready. The problem was never his readiness, it was mine. I was holding him back because I wanted my babies just a little while longer.
I love babies. Besides puppy dogs, I can’t think of anything I love more than babies except perhaps a glass of
something with a proof wine at the end of a long day. Babies are amazing, I love the way they smell. I love how they are just blobs of pudgy goodness that just lay there and smile at you. I adore their giggles and even their little cries. The problem with babies, they grow up.
I wish I could have another one, I honestly do. I would love to share that experience with my husband but at the same time I look at the ones we have already. I see them completely and think, “thank God he closed up the shop, boy did He know what He was doing”. I’m not saying that to be mean, I’m being honest. Parenting five vastly different personalities has not been easy and bringing another one into the mix might be the straw that breaks the camels back. Yet, I still have that longing and I feel it stronger every day that my babies get older. I feel it especially now that I’m potty training my youngest, the last of the babies.
It took me forever to break down and start training the boys. They are almost four and with the exception of the occasional number 2, they have never even been made to sit on the potty. I used to blame it on their stubbornness but now I’m realizing, it wasn’t them, it was me. That subconscious part of me that knows, this is the last time I will have to do this. That realization would bring relief to most women, I’m sure. To me, it brings sadness and depression.
Their infancy passed by way too quickly for me, I’m sure it was shorter than 12 months. At least it feels that way. I want to go back and relive every toddler tantrum, every sick cuddle, every time they burped and spit formula on me. Now they can do everything themselves, they don’t need me as much anymore, they aren’t babies and they remind me of that all the time.
I surmise that all parents feel that way. Every time their youngest reaches a milestone, they feel that twinge. I felt that same twinge the day my daughter started Kindergarten but I knew I still had my boys left. I can only imagine that I will be a blubbery mess when my boys start Preschool this fall and begin the next phase of their lives. At the same time, I will start the next phase of mine, parent of all school age children. My baby days a distant memory.