On mothering a toddler.

I have this nagging feeling, a lump in my throat and a pinch in my belly.  "Snuggle him closer." it says.  "Drown him in kisses and smother him with hugs.  He won't be little for long."

And so I scoot over to make room in my bed for him at night.  I try not to be too frustrated with an elbow in my ear and a foot resting solidly on my hip.  Soon he will be too big to sleep in my bed.  Soon enough he will be too big to sleep in my house.

Do you ever have that feeling that you've missed something?  That between the running and the cooking and the cleaning and the bossing and the chastising and the never ending loads of laundry...do you ever feel at the end of the day that you simply forgot to stop and look at what was right in front of you?  I don't want to send him to kindergarten and to high school and to college and forget that once he fit in my tummy and then he fit in my arms.  These days, he's all over the place - playing cars, riding his "bike," coloring, and building towers and construction sites.  There is a whirlwind of toys and books and crayons scattered throughout my house at the end of the day.  He's intent on doing everything "myself."  But when he wakes up from a nap, he wants nothing more than to sit quietly on my lap with my arms wrapped tightly around him and his feet sticking out on either side of my hips, all long and lanky these days but determined to snuggle in, while he slowly finishes charging his batteries.  If I try to do anything else, he pulls my hands away and wraps them back around him and sighs when I squeeze.

Some days I feel as though I rushed through his babyness.  Between the hormones and the mood swings and the not knowing what I'm doing most of the time, I've spent two years on pins and needles wondering what was going to come next: sleeping through the night, solid food, sitting up, crawling, walking, talking.  The anticipation of the next milestone made each day feel like Christmas Eve and when he finally reached it it was a little miracle right in the middle of a busy work week.  I try not to second guess my choices and I try not to wonder what I would do differently if I had it to do again.  Would I smell him more?  Would I snuggle him more?  Would I read the books less and go with my gut more?  Would I worry less?

I think I'll just try that from here on - the worrying less and the trusting my gut more.  I will forget some things - the millions of dandelions picked or the thousands of tantrums thrown - some days I will wish for a do-over button, but I will hold on to the way my heart feels when I have his sticky little hand in mine and he squeezes.