He used to be a toddler!!

Scrubbing toilets three times a day, or rather the floor around them, despite having used the “Cheerio-method” of potty training – I miss that; now he locks the door when he uses the bathroom instead of leaving it open so I can clap for him as he proudly misses the Cheerio floating in the toilet. I miss stepping on that one Gi-Joe man that is laying with his gun aimed at the ceiling despite having successfully maneuvered around the previous twenty that were laying on their sides; when he was eight he brought me those little guys in a Zip-loc baggie saying he didn’t “need” them anymore. I actually miss the humour I found in cramming the twenty princess dresses and ballerina leotards into the pink and brown leopard print chest at the foot of the bed; smiling because a flashback of her little lisp convincing me the day before that she just HAD to have a sparkly one too. I no longer fold three loads of laundry in one day (that I was fairly certain half of which weren’t dirty to begin with) because they had just learned to dress themselves so changing ten times a day was, without a doubt, the natural next feat; now it’s listening to, “I don’t have anything to wear!”, despite the crammed closet and drawers full of clothes. Chipping away at the oatmeal that had dried to the tile underneath the kitchen table doesn’t seem like such a chore now, because that meant relaxing mornings of sitting at the kitchen table eating oatmeal together in our pajamas existed; now mornings are filled with correcting homework and signing permission slips because the night before was spent running from here to there for the GATE program or basketball games. A cold dinner, once the only kind of meal I ever ate, is surprisingly missed as all four of my children can dish their own plates now.

The days I once thought I longed for that lacked the repetitious chores of toddler-mommyhood are now upon me, and it’s bitter-sweet; despite the missed past-times I am determined to cherish these moments now. I have learned the lesson that things that once were done begrudgingly are often little bits of a phase of life that will soon be missed. One day when I’m seeing my children off to prom or taking them to get their driver’s permit I will think back to the rushed mornings of today, the long evenings of last night, the newly developed sarcasm of an 11-year-old, the incessant award ceremonies at school, the writer’s cramp from permission slip and homework signing, and even the threats of pulling the car over if “the bickering doesn’t stop” will honestly, truly, be missed.