Growing pains

Today I was struck by the relative sizes of our children. Not so much how big they are in comparison to one another, but rather how much each of them has already grown up in their short lives and yet how far they have still to go.

We took L to get new clothes today because she's been struggling to wriggle in and out of her now-too-small T-shirts and skirts. I was amazed when we got to the mall to discover that she now fits firmly in sizes found in the "big girl" section of the children's department and no longer teeters on the precipice between toddler and big-kid wear. As we scooped these new, larger T-shirts and skirts into our shopping bag I had a moment of acute awareness of just how quickly she's becoming a kid.

Just as suddenly, we stepped out of the store and approached the escalators of the outdoor shopping center and L froze at the top of the moving stairs. For the first time in her life as a mobile child, she was apprehensive and couldn't bring herself to chose one of the revolving steps to follow C and I down to the bottom. She needed for me to ride back up and take her hand for the ride down. Reassurance. Protection.

And then there's little C, who proclaims his bigness multiple times a day:

"No, I a big boy," "I want a big one," "I need big," "No diaper. Undies."

Tonight we had our usual post-church picnic in the park, where swarms of area residents gather to listen to live music, catch up with friends and let their children run and play. For a brief moment, while N played ball with the kids only a few paces from our picnic blanket, C slipped away into the crowd and was lost. For the longest five minutes of our lives, N and I searched and searched for our little boy. I tried not to let myself slip into panic, but I began to think of C, so tiny and vulnerable, not even knowing that we were not watching over him for those minutes, like we always do. With the help of friends, we located him and fell into tears when we finally held him in our arms. C was so blissfully unaware of the roller coaster he had just set off for N and I. He needs us every moment of the day--close by him--always watching over.

After everyone was safely and snugly in bed tonight, I thought about the tiny sweet pea growing inside now, whose tiny flickering movements I've begun to feel this week. I became overwhelmed when I thought of the inevitable transfer onto this new child, the simultaneous feelings of intense pride and searing pain that come with loving a child you're responsible for raising. These are the privileges and the price tags of parenting.