So, for me, striking a balance has changed meaning lately-- rather than trying to successfully balance work and family, I am trying to balance my delight in witnessing my daughters' milestones with my regret that my babies are surpassing their infancy. Last year, my five-year-old graduated from kindergarten. She and I , the "big girls" in our family, spent an afternoon shopping for a special dress for her to wear during the ceremony. As we stood together in the dressing room, as I pulled her dress over her head , I listened to her chatter on about her excitement at choosing her own dress and her fears that she would forget to take her diploma when they called her name.
I realized that such moments, while they may not be delegated a page in the baby books, are more meaningful and more easily overlooked than when the first molar comes in. Teeth, smiles, steps-- these are exciting because they show us that our babies are real people who can mimic our physical behavior. The adrenaline-pumped small talk of my graduate-to-be was exciting for a completely different reason-- while Zoe told me her stories of happiness and anxiety, she was speaking as someone who is no longer mimicking the world around her, but as someone who is learning to navigate that world on her own terms. Zoe is no longer my baby, but these milestones remain important-- only now, I have to open my eyes wider in order to see them.
I am naturally drawn to the world of "grown ups", of long talks over coffee and jokes that are not easily translated to toddlers. While it is almost impossible not to get caught up in the enthusiasm of the newborn stage, the subtler patterns of the later years often fly by me unnoticed.
Now, the arrival of Ruby has prompted me to reevaluate my mothering skills-- it is not enough to breastfeed and caress my infant. Even though the smell of a baby's neck is the stuff that cliches are made of (and, admittedly, for good reason!), the messy-haired merriment of my preschooler, Emma, is equally satisfying, as is the sweet-natured company of my now-seven-year-old. As this summer begins to fade into autumn, my plan is to spend these last warm days running through the grass alongside my free-spirited girls, and to savor every fleeting stage of their childhood.
