For the last 3 years, I have carried my oldest child (who now weight nearly 50 pounds) up the stairs, changed her clothes, helped her brush her teeth, and fed her cereal by hand while we watch WordGirl before I pack her up in the car and drive her to school.
Why do I feed a 6 year old who is perfectly capable of feeding herself, you ask? Well, I asked her the same question as to why I should still be feeding her when I KNOW she can feed herself.
“Because it brings me comfort, Mommy,” was her answer. Who can argue with that? And, so I feed her.
Except on Wednesdays, which is Daddy’s day to do that. Wednesdays I stay home and our youngest calls it “Mommy and Baby Bird Day”. She gets so excited when it is Mommy and BBD. We sleep in and cuddle, followed by some light housework, and a breakfast of pancakes and a LOT of bacon. Then I take her to her ballet class.
Ballet class has become such a special time for her. All of the other friends she has ever are somehow linked to her sister. They were Z’s friend’s first, and then Baby Bird’s, but not her dance friends. Her dance friends belong completely to her.
When we leave dance, we go to Chick Fil-a and play date with dolls and friends. The moms have become a special support to me as well. It is nice to have people who understand where you are in life.
Sadly, both of the bucolic scenes above are coming to an end. My special time with my oldest will soon be replaced by hectic mornings involving both children. My wonderful times with the dance moms (a phrase I never thought I would utter) is about to come to a close with recital looming over us.
I know that both transitions are good. I know that both transitions are necessary. It didn’t stop me from weeping on the bathroom floor after I put them to bed tonight. No one tells you how hard it is when you are in the middle of the best days of your life and you know it.