They’re growing up.

Ben in his big boy bed in his new room. All his stuffed animals made the move with him.

My boy is getting big. 

And, honestly, I’m good with that.

I walk this thin line between wanting to live in the moment and being excited my kids are growing up. Don’t misinterpret that. I don’t want to rush my kids out of childhood. But I do like some of the ways they embrace independence. My kindergarten daughter is showering herself once one of us adults gets her water temperature the perfect and is getting close to losing her third tooth. My 3-year-old boy can eventually put on his clothes and sometimes manages to get his coat and hat on before we walk out the door.

She’s excited about her brother getting bigger and she pulled her loose tooth last night. Three down …

Last week we moved Ben from his nursery bedroom on the main level of the house to what has been the guest room upstairs. He shares a hallway with his big sister now. He’s even ventured into her room a few times in the middle of the night, which disrupts sleep for all of us.

Cate is even excited to have him upstairs in his own space near her room, although she doesn’t want him in her room, much less her bed, in the middle night. They both even helped me move his toys up the stairs and they’ve played in there many afternoons once she’s home from school.

She told her carpool friends about Ben “sleeping in his big boy bed in his new room by hers.” I heard the excitement in her voice that diminished when her friends didn’t really seem to care.

Having a newborn is sweet but it’s not my favorite phase of motherhood. I haven’t been sad at either of my kids’ first birthdays. I don’t mind when I can start carrying a big purse again instead of a stuffed-full diaper bag. Toddlerhood with my boy was much harder and exhausting than a few years earlier with my girl, so I’m OK living on the other side of him being 2.

But, you know, my boy is funny. He tells crazy stories, probably to compete with his sister’s constant detailed tales. Sometimes in the middle of a conversation, he’s just growl. It’s when I can’t hear him I have to wonder what he’s doing.

He’s sweet sometimes too. A few times he’s interrupted silence with “Momma! I love Jesus. Jesus lives in heaven.” He adores my best friend here nearly as much as he loves her three kids who he treats like an extended group of siblings. He whispers in people’s ears and likes to wave to strangers in stores and restaurants.

I like seeing his personality explode in our life, even on the days I have to take deep breaths and finally breathe a deep sigh of relief when bedtime comes. I want to help him channel his energy and not squash his spirit. Seeing my kids’ relationship with each other develop is one of my greatest joys of mothering. Maybe she can convince him using the potty really is better than wearing a diaper.

These things wouldn’t happen if they didn’t grow up. I’m sure one day I’ll cry big ‘ole momma tears ’cause my babies aren’t babies. But I’m not there yet. Right now I want to wrap my arms around my 5-year-old girl and 3-year-old boy and remember that these days won’t last for long because that’s how life is meant to be. 

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