Have I mentioned that I now have three glorious mornings a week in which I am completely, utterly, kidless?
This is the stage of life that I've been not-so-patiently waiting for the past 12 years and here it is, thrust upon me and I'm filling my time with the things I've been waiting for.
And more running.
But also trips to Costco, and browsing at TJ Maxx, and even getting my house in order.
The medicine cupboard, the junk drawer, all spic and span and shiny once again.
And while I sort of love it, this new found freedom that I have, it's also sinking in and this is it. This is where I find myself, standing on the edge of my kids not needing me so much and the busyness of their lives taking over the simplicity of mine. It's odd and a bit terrifying all at the same time. I am now often on the sidelines instead of calling the game and it feels foreign to me, this new hat that I'm wearing.
I've always tried to enjoy each stage that my kids are in, not wishing them away for the next one. I loved getting up with my babies at night, snuggling them close and nursing them back to sleep, I truly did. I loved the feeling of triumph in navigating the mall with two littles in the stroller and not one melt down to be seen. I loved picnics at the park after preschool and then packing lunches and sending them off for a full day. I love watching them in their activities, whether it be piano or soccer and cheering them on no matter what. I've loved it all and know without question that I will love what's to come.
But this freedom I have now, this time to myself to do as I please has served as a giant, screaming reminder that they are growing up, and while I sort of love it, I sort of loathe it too. From my oldest who stands almost eye-to-eye with me to my littlest who can button his own pants and do his own zippers, I find myself missing my kids.
Missing her sparkling blue eyes and the cutest voice you've ever heard.
Missing his quiet play, watching him get lost in worlds of train stations and engines.
Missing her perfectly round race, completely with chubby cheeks and a smile that could change the world.
Missing his snuggles, his blue blanket with the giraffe draped over us both as we meld together on the couch.
Their growing. I'm cheering. It's where we are now.