Our refrigerator used to be covered with drawings of cats. The last few years it’s been all dragons and knights and such. For now anyway. I’ve had someone’s drawings on display for over 15 years now on appliances and walls. I can’t imagine a day when there are no new ones to hang, no homemade cards half-open and rustling as we walk past. No sounds of play pretend in the next room, even the slightly shy and mumbled kind. But here I am discussing majors with one child and signing another up for middle school band. (Trombone- I think we should start a family ragtime band.) I’m not excited about babies growing up. Even little Spot is maturing. I am proud of who they are becoming, but still feel a little melancholy about it.
The infancy of my first child was when I first began to feel like I was doing what I was made for. I have loved every single second of being a mother to little children, even the hard ones, even more as the years pass.
I look at these pictures of my youngest and see more young adult and less child in him than ever. I posted earlier about indecision on if I should work to help with college expenses, but maybe I should just have another child so the sounds of baby feet and high pitched laughter won’t stop. Oh boy. I don’t know how much longer they’ll be snuggling up to me on the couch, or try to fall asleep on my bed, or cover our refrigerator with dragon pictures, but I know that I will enjoy every single second of it.