Damn You, Father Time

Turning 5 is a much bigger deal than I thought.

It's April again. This is the one month of the year that never fails to remind me of the passage of time in my life. My first-born son was born in the month of April, as was my third-born son. My father passed away in the month of April. Tax returns are due. Every year, without fail, April brings milestones, laughter, celebration, recollection and tears. Thankfully, the joys of the month far outweigh the lows. I'm even more thankful that my middle son's birthday is in July.

It is 2011, which means this April has marked the 9th birthday for my eldest, and the 5th birthday for my youngest. Each year, my mental preparation for their birthdays starts in March and by early April I'm knee deep in birthday-related errands. This year was no different. I sent the party invitations out. I ordered the balloons. I wrapped the gifts. I power-cleaned the house for the parties. I really thought I was ready for the whirlwind of activity. As it turns out, however, I wasn't prepared for the surprisingly emotional significance that this April has brought.

When all of my boys were ages 4 and under, I still thought of them as "little". Physically small in stature, with various reserves of baby pudge in at least one or two places...notably the most targeted spots on their body for thousands of kisses from me. As "little" kids, they were still refreshingly innocent, exploring their world and making discoveries to their pure delight. They loved being on me, or near me. They welcomed me to be a part of everything they were doing...playing, eating, exploring, sleeping...everything. Every object and experience was new and magical; it was pure joy to witness and share it all with them.

I have, in my mind, considered the "5th Birthday" as a turning point for my boys. They went from being "little" to "not little anymore". Being 5 means starting kindergarten. It means taking the training wheels off the bike. It means we've been to the zoo dozens of times by now, and they know all the animals. It means they like to do most things by themselves. It means they just aren't "little" anymore. They are on their way toward "growing up". They know there's a big world out there and they can't wait to experience the liberties afforded to "grown ups". They have no desire to remain "little" and I am a lot less needed by them.

Reflecting on the past birthdays of my first two boys, I now realize that I was afforded at least one fall-back "little" kid to get me through their milestone, aka "turning point", 5th birthdays. It was truly a blessing to my psyche which, I'm discovering, is more fragile than I would have ever thought. When my oldest turned 5, I had two other sons, ages 3 1/2 and 1...still blessedly "little" and still packing a lot of baby pudge. Turns out that was a great distraction to the fact that my first-born was growing up. When my second son turned 5, my youngest was only 2 1/2...that left me a good couple of years to enjoy his "littleness" while his big brothers continued growing up. Alas, this year my baby turned 5. In an instant, I suddenly had no more fall-back options. I'm left with the realization of the hard fact that all of my boys are growing up. My nest is no longer lined in baby pudge to comfort me as I watch them do it. There's nobody left to welcome me to be a part of every thing they are doing. I'm feeling a lot less needed and, after nine years of being elbows deep in raising my "little" boys, it's a strange feeling and one I wasn't prepared for.

This April has thrown me for an emotional loop. I baked the cakes, lit the candles, laughed, hugged and kissed my boys...all with a sincere "Happy Birthday!" to the two of them this month. In private, in reflection, I feel like I'm grieving a loss, of sorts. I'm not handling my new reality very well. I have been harshly slapped in the face by Father Time and, try as I might to prevent him from doing it, he has closed a chapter on my life that I can never get back. I am left only with the memories, photos and videos to try and recapture the sensations I experienced with my "little" boys...the smells, the sounds, the touches. But I don't want another baby to fill the void. I just want my "little" boys back for a day or two. To squeeze, to smell...to see the world through their eyes again. I can't have that...so, I will mourn my loss for a bit. I know that this, too, shall pass. In time, it won't sting to see their baby pictures and be reminded that those days are gone. In time, I will look back at this entry and wonder what the big deal was. Time, though, will be my double-edged sword for a bit. Time will heal my hurting heart and I will no longer yearn for my "little" boys to come back to me. But, time will also bring me closer to the end of my next chapter as a mom. If the next 9 years of motherhood go by as quickly as the first 9 have, that means my oldest will be leaving my home. I can't even imagine what that will be like.

My boys are growing up; I'm not naive enough to think it's gonna be all hugs and kisses in the process. I am emotionally preparing myself for all of it. I acknowledge that Father Time will continue turning the pages, against my will. So, I will be writing this next chapter in motherhood with a new perspective. I will experience my growing boys with heightened senses...every conversation we have, every touch we share, every smile they bless me with...I'm going to hold onto it. I am going to etch it in my memory and, at the end of the day, relive the moments as much as I can. And I will remind myself to enjoy it and to experience it for all it is. For, one day, too soon, this chapter will close. And I'd like to say, with a smile on my face, that I was prepared for it.