Those Days Are Gone

Oh, and The Tadpole can sit up on his own now.


He sits there, wobbly and unsteady. Keeping his balance carefully, looking up at me with a smile, searching my face for approval.

And here's my secret: behind the proud smile I am giving him, I'm crying.

He's my last. He's almost six months old. He's sitting up.

I think back to this past week, to the craziness and chaos, to the frustration and stress and slip ups where I yelled at the girls.

And I think about how the only time I had made to simply sit and cuddle with my little babe was when we were both sick.

He spends so much of his day smiling, in his new high chair or on the blanket on the floor or in my arms while I teach The Mermaid. So smiley and happy.

But sometimes he gives me this look that breaks my heart...like he is begging me to just sit down with him.

Slow down.

Relax.

To play with him a little. To cuddle just a little more. To just sit and let him nurse as long as he wants without mentally rushing him.

To just be with him.

How do I do it? How do I balance three kids with everything else in life?

I feel as though I'm being pulled apart at the seams. Everywhere I look, someone or something needs my attention. I spin around and around, juggling it all together until I look down...

...and see my baby sitting up. Growing up.

And I smile proudly while hiding the fact that my heart is ripping in two with the realization that the newborn days are now over for me. Permanently.

Those Days Are Gone