The Realization That Your Children Are Growing Up :(

How it sneaks up on you...

 

Scenario 1:

 

Once upon a time, the Singapore Singaaran LOVED cuddle time. He would leap into bed as we winced for the impact, and burrow into the sheets between us. Imagine trying to get your bearings quivering, groggy, bleary-eyed, and sloth-like while this <40 lb. ball of energy hurls itself at you...You experience enough and more 'ouch!' moments and are happy to nudge him towards the dear husband who is equally groggy, and possibly snoozing away. No harm in waking him up to do his fatherly duties, right?

 

Now my soon-to-be 8 year old is conscious that - regardless of my performances in their burping (and other, grosser) contests - I am not 'one of the boys'...He is reluctant to let me cuddle him. Now, you WANT the hugs and the cuddle time and to bury your nose in his baby smell...but they look so uncomfortable...that you don't want to demand a hug. It defeats the purpose. You turn away, guilty to have asked for one, and then comes the permission, "OK! OK! you can give me a hug." (sounding tired and doling one out to his needy old Mum)

 

Hopefully, this will not be the reaction 30 years from now. And certainly not on their wedding days! There will be no guilt in demanding hugs, on my part for sure.

 

Scenario 2:

 

Once upon a time, my sons believed that I was a bigger version of them - an overgrown toddler with chubby legs and a round tummy...but with better abilities and sharper skills of course - goes without saying haha (eyes rolled upwards)!. Taking advantage of this wonderful illusion, I could run to and from the bathroom and the closet in various states of undress. My sons didn't bat an eye. It was just the big baby running around.

 

These days, my older son's reaction is to cover his brother's eyes and yell in combat mode, "DON'T LOOK!", while the younger one stares, mouth agape, as if watching an accident in slow-motion. He can't look away...(agreed, my thighs looks like a train wreck right now, but that's not what pains me). In that vague region called your heart, you realize that that these guys - your own flesh and blood literally - are becoming their own little people. The sense of pride running strong with your dismay just bends you over like a punch in the gut while you try standing straight, brave and strong. 

Sometimes, even good things make moms cry.