How is it possible that my boy is nearly 3?
Just a mere two years ago I was cuddling him on the couch, nursing him, snuggling with him. Every moment I can cuddle them as they are small seems blessed, and they are passing too quickly.
Now he is up and around, talking in complete sentences. He hardly ever wants to "swuggle" anymore.
My little baby started rolling over this past weekend. She's started cereal.
My eight-year-old daughter barely resembles her infancy. Some days that's a blessing, but other days, her approaching teen years seem like a curse.
This is the last time for the baby firsts for me: I know we're done. To steal a phrase: My quiver is full.
And while I don't want any more babies, the aging and growing older is stabbing my heart a bit more each day.
I now know what it means in the Stations of the Cross when they say that "sorrow pierced her heart."
It's bittersweet, it's painful. It's also what you know they need to do, know where they need to be.
You can't keep them little forever. Though God knows I'd like to.
In spiritu humilitatis, et in animo contrito suscipiamur a te, Domine.
In spirit humble, and in soul contrite
may we be received to You, Lord.