I’ll admit that writing about the change of seasons from San Antonio in August just makes me miss the 40th parallel even harder but here we are – it’s 100 degrees outside and we’re already planning on driving to northern New Mexico this winter at least once for the fresh powdery substance (no, not cocaine). However, for as wonderful as it is to experience four beautifully distinct seasons each year, I’m not here to discuss every millennial’s favorite time of year (fall – squee!) and yammer on about campfires and chemically-flavored coffee creations.
My children are getting older. Their faces are changing. Gone are the chubby baby thighs. I don’t really remember their newborn smell. Our eyes don’t lock during marathon nursing-sessions anymore. No more diapers. No more pacifiers. No crib. No highchairs. No video monitors. They still need us, but they don’t need us as much. And I have never been happier.
I’m not particularly a baby person. Of course my babies were amazing and the amount of love that poured from every ounce of my being into theirs continues to be unmeasurable. But when I look back at their babyhoods, I do so with fondness and not with longing to turn back time. Each year continues to get even better as they grow into their personalities and learn more about the world around them. And how lucky are we to be able to have front-row seats to their childhood?
There is definitely a sense of freedom we feel now. Not that we ever let ourselves feel tied-down just because we had a baby but it is certainly easier to just pick and go with slightly older children. The fact that we’re able to have deep conversations about life (and farts) with these magical little creatures who look like us is mind-blowing and makes me unbelievably excited for the future of our family. We are in a new season of our lives – one that doesn’t involve babies. And I am okay with that.