Blink of an eye

This morning, as Bird danced joyfully to Andy Williams on the Sirius Holiday channel in our living room, he looked like a little boy. Not a baby. A little boy.

I must say, it happened so fast.

While I was in the attic today getting out my giant stockpot (hello, turkey stock!), I found a bag of Bird's newborn clothes. I went ahead and tossed them down, knowing that I'll need them sooner rather than later at this point.

I must say, they are so very tiny.

At dinner tonight, Bird was talking in two word sentence structure. "Daddy eat," "Yogurt gone," and my favorite, "Love you." Hearing him develop vocabulary and start to use a rough subject-verb relationship is amazing.

I must say, I think he is incredibly smart.

These cliches keep swooping down upon me, and I hear them leaving my mouth before I can think of something more original to say.

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The passing of time as a mother overwhelms me.

There are days that drag on so slowly, causing me to call Kevin at lunchtime and ask him when he might be coming home. The whining and tantrums make the minutes crawl by, tempting me to turn on Elmo and hit repeat.

But then there are days when I look at Bird, and I wonder how on earth we got from tiny baby to little boy so quickly. And my heart aches for the days to slow down; for him to fit more easily in my lap again as I rock him before bedtime.

Soon, we will have that baby when Butterbean arrives. In a matter of weeks, the tiny clothes will be washed and ready to outfit a brand new little boy. I'm nervous, remembering how hard the first few months with Bird were. I was so tired and so incredibly sensitive to the crying. It nearly undid me.

I keep telling Kevin that when it gets bad, or if I start to perceive it as unbearable - I'm asking him to remind me of how quickly the newborn will be gone. How quickly Butterbean will be a little boy. And how I will ache for him to fit in my lap more easily, and how I will mourn the dis-assemblage of the crib, and how I will miss nursing my boys.

It's a fair trade though. I know that the newborn stage is hard, and at the same time, I know that I will miss it when it's gone. But nothing in the world can replace having my Little Bird pop off my breast just before being put down for the night, reach up for my cheek, look in my eyes, and say, "Love you."

He's not even born yet, and I know Butterbean will be there all too soon.