It seems to me that our children dance impishly along the border between infancy and childhood for years. From the moment they pick up their sippy cup and start helping themselves to the moment they wave to you from the doorway on their first day of school they are toying with the idea of independence. Some days they prance effortlessly across the line, surprising you with their capabilities and grace. Other days, they fall short and land back in your lap looking for comfort and guidance. It’s all part of growing up.
Then suddenly, without warning, they cross the line and never look back.
The other day I took my toddler to the psychology department at our local university to participate in a study on child development. We have been participating in these studies since my oldest son was 10 months old, so it wasn’t an unfamiliar experience as we walked hand-in-hand down the narrow hallways of the university, catching odd glances from the students and the occasional joke from a professor about “starting them young”.
However, today we were heading to a different room. My son was now too old for the infant studies and had to graduate to the child development lab. As a child who doesn’t do well with change, he was skeptical at first. After a few minutes of gentle coaxing, he agreed to sit next to me on the little sofa while the researcher explained the study. He rested his little head on my shoulder and stroked my arm while he pretended not to listen.
When she told me he would be participating in the study alone, without me, my first thought was, NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN. This is the child who still used me as a toilet seat cover because the big toilets scare him. He wasn’t ready to sit in a room with a stranger and answer questions. Was he?
When she finished her soliloquy, I turned to the little boy hiding in my armpit on the sofa. He looked so small.
“Do you want to go play a game with this nice lady here?” I asked.
“Ok!” He exclaimed without hesitation and jumped off the sofa.
He never ceases to amaze me. He skipped off down the hall holding the hand of the stranger who led him into the interview room. There was a window between the interview room and the room where I was waiting and as I watched him through the glass I suddenly realized how grown up he looked. He hadn’t once asked for me or even looked to see whether I was there behind the glass. I’d been so surprised by his willingness to leave me behind that I hadn’t considered that I might be just as scared of his independence as he was.
He is going to start preschool next year. Each day he will leave me behind and share part of himself with someone else: a part of himself that I won’t see. I won’t even have a window through which to watch and make sure he’s all right. I won’t get to laugh at his jokes or roll my eyes when he plays little tricks on his teacher.
Suddenly, the glass between us seemed a mile thick. My little boy was growing up. That line that he used to dance across, back and forth, had turned into a wall. He was happily chattering away on one side and I was left, watching longingly from the other. I started thinking, this is what my life will be like once he grows up. He will move on, assert his independence, and I will watch proudly, happily, and a little nostalgically from the other side of an invisible wall.
The little world in which we have existed for the last four years, just us most of the time, will suddenly feel very lonely without him. His world will expand and grow, while mine will get smaller. I am so excited for him to grow up, to learn about the world, and become the man that he was born to be, but there is a part of me that will always wonder where that little boy went: the one who hid in my armpit for safety.
Just as I’d worked myself up to the point of sobbing in the little viewing room, the study was over. My son ran through the door and jumped onto my lap, excited to tell me all about the things he’d done. I hugged him tighter than he liked. I didn’t have to let go yet. I still had time. That glass wall wasn’t permanent. He breezed right through it as if it weren’t there. He beamed up at me with pride as he invited me back into his world, and I accepted greedily.
One day I will find myself stuck on the outside, looking in, as my first-born son makes his way into the wide world. But not today. Today he is still my baby, and I will enjoy every minute. That is, until the next time he refuses to wipe his own butt. Where’s the wall then?
Lovely.
Thank you 🙂
Your posts are amazing! As a mom to 5 boys aged from 10 to 18, I often find myself wiping away tears after reading what you’ve written. Particularly this one. My baby graduates high school in 8 weeks. Yea, the wall. Awesome.
Yeah, I imagine these moments only get stronger and more poignant as they grow. Thank you for reading!
Evey time I read a new post by you, I’m struck by your talent. Beautiful piece my friend. ♥
Thanks so much 🙂
My heart breaks a little as it also swells with pride at every new step and development in my big kid. So small, and so big. I love the moments we still have that are sweet, and poop free. Hanging on the the littles before they’re too big. It’s such a day to day tug of war.
Yes it is. I know you’re right there with me. Some days it’s harder than others, but I’m holding it together so far. I might be a blubbering mess his first day of preschool though…
My goodness. I am up nursing our newborn son and sobbing away. What a beautiful article. When I read this I couldn’t help but think of my oldest son. Love your blog.
Aww, thanks! BF hormones and bittersweet posts are a lethal combination. Thanks for toughing it out with me 🙂
Love this!
Another post that made me tear up!!!! Nice writing Mary and so heart filled!
“This is the child who still used me as a toilet seat cover because the big toilets scare him. He wasn’t ready to sit in a room with a stranger and answer questions.”
This sounds like the kind of story parents share with their children’s first girlfriend or boyfriend. I feel kind of bad that I laughed.
Ha ha ha. The only part of my kids dating that I’m looking forward to 😉
Loved the post and I sighed at parts then smiled when your son returned, delighted to you. It was so well written. Loved it.
Every change is like the end of an era, but when you’ve gotten over it you realise that there is a whole new stage to look forward to. My ten year old is teetering on the edge of teenagerdom, but every now and then she comes to me and asks for a cuddle. It seems it is hard to grow out of that and it reminds us that they still need us, even when they’re big boys and girls.
Well, I’m glad to know those moments won’t disappear in a flash. I hope he still needs me for a long time to come. I know I’ll still need him 🙂
Such a sweet post! I think we can all relate to that feeling. How they run away from us with all the confidence in the world. But, the good thing is, they always come back at some point. let’s just hope it’s not at 25 years old, right?
Oh, how beautiful. I’m at this exact point with my three-year-olds, too, and you brought tears to my eyes. Thank you. I’m going to go share this now.
Aww, thank you so much!
I’m going to go hug my little boys now. They are growing up so fast. Thanks for posting!
So perfect. I absolutely loved this one. My kids are a bit older than yours, and I can tell you I’ve been watching this happen, feeling those same feelings. It’s hard but good, but hard.
Thanks! I think this is something that I’ll probably struggle with at every transition…and with every kid. Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?!? Oh yeah, because they’re cute. Sigh. Thanks for reading!
oh this was so sweet and I could totally relate — so many mixed emotions! so proud of their independence — yet so protective of them — and quite frankly, many moments where I wonder “do they REALLY have to leave the nest? it is warm here and cozy and we should all stay in this nest together and NEVER LEAVE — NOBODY CAN LEAVE, DO YOU HEAR ME?” and then I realize I’m acting a little Kathy-Bates-ish from the “Misery” movie…ha!
Ha ha ha. Yeah, when you start going all Stephen King it’s time to take a step back. But I know what you mean. I sometimes wish they could stay little forever…then I have to change a diaper or get up with them four times a night. It waxes and wains 😛