my baby

Monday afternoons is my shift for the babysitters club. Monday's aren't the most sought after days, and so I have only had a couple of opportunities to earn tickets, and I am pretty fine with that. This last Monday was a little different, I actually watched 4 other little kids- two babies and two little girls a little older than Christopher. The youngest was less than a year- she was this cute chubby little thing who could sit up, and play with toys, but didn't crawl yet. She liked to be held, and I was having flashbacks to the days when my own cute chubby babies would want me to hold them all day and my arm would just ache some days. There was this other baby- 14 months, who was crawling all over the place. Boy is he fast! Very cute, happy kid, but very busy. Such a boy too. All about the balls and the cars. The three year old girl talked to me the most. She was funny. She and Christopher were the same size- but her conversational skills left him in the dust. They were all cute and I think they had fun.

Christopher was so well behaved, I was impressed. He was just so happy to have someone his size who would play with him and go outside and jump on the trampoline with him, he didn't seem to be jealous at all when I was holding another baby.

The point of all this rambling? I had about an hour and a half to compare my baby to these other little kids, and I was surprised at the amount of sadness mixed in with the relief and joy and pride I felt about how Christopher is growing up.

No, I'm not having a change of heart, more than anything I know I am done having kids, so I was pretty surprised to feel sad about how big he is getting. There was a time when I used to envy pregnant women, their joy and excitement, now all I can think is "better you than me." When I hold a sweet little baby, or even watch a new mother lovingly caress her new little one, I can look over and think "wow, what a cute baby" but then I remember the sleepless nights and all the work and more than ever I know that I am done with my part of populating the Earth.

I think it was just a shock to me to see how well Christopher, My Baby, fit in with the bigger kids. He didn't talk like them, and is still wearing diapers, but he was as big as one of them, and colored with them, and played alongside them, and suddenly he wasn't a baby any more.

And I am left thinking "When did that happen?!?" When did he stop emptying my Tupperware cabinet and start helping me make my bed? When did he stop leaving sippy cups all over the house, and start putting his dirty dishes in the sink? He's not all grown up and mature, and responsible, I'd still say 70-80% of the mess around here is his, but it was still shocking and eye opening to be sure.

And it's easy to be happy my child bearing days are over when I have a baby at home, but I wasn't prepared to be a little sad when I realized he wasn't such a baby any more. Because mostly he is my baby. When he crawls up on my lap with his blankie when I am trying to read a book, he is definitely my baby. When he demands my attention 47 different times as I try to write this, he is definitely my baby, even if he is handing me the remote to the television, or asking me to put on his shoes.

Don't get me wrong- I will throw a party the day it's official and I never have to buy another diaper. I look forward to the days when we can all go to the movies, or bowling, or whatever, as a family, and not have to worry or think about how Christopher will do.

I probably should have known myself better to think that watching each stage go by would be easy. I was the one sitting on the floor of my bedroom sorting through baby clothes bawling my eyes out thinking that never again would I dress a little baby of mine in a preemie sized outfit. So I guess the question to be asked is, when Blues Clues never again fills my house with songs like "we just got a letter, we just got a letter", or "It's time for so long, but we'll sing just one more song", will the tears I shed be those of joy, or sadness, or maybe a mixture of both?