Evolution

There comes a time when you stand back and marvel at how far your baby has come. For me happened a few weeks ago when I walked down the stairs and there was my son Brenton standing there wearing jeans and an argyle sweater and his little tiny sneakers. He looked like a little boy. He was no longer a baby but a toddler.

I asked my friend if that happens to her and she just said wait until he is 8. I wonder if it will still happen when he is my age now. Will I be struck by how he has grown and changed before my eyes?

I still remember when I held him for the first time and kissed his sweet little face. That moment is when I begin the journey of watching my baby grow up. I can't stop it and I don't want to. It is marvelous. It is a kind of perfection.

There are times I do not remember my childhood but my mother does. I wonder if that will happen to Brenton and to me. Will I be able to tell him about the time he whacked his face on the coffee table and gave himself a huge bruise on his right cheek? Or will I forget? Will I remember what it was like to watch him really learn to walk and how he did laps around the kitchen island like it was a race track?

I like to think I will keep note of every moment although I know that may not be possible. Even now memories come back smack me in the face and I am right back there. Like when he had his first steps, his first bee sting, his first smile, first poopie diaper and when he first said Dada. All bringing up different emotions they bring me joy and comfort for many different reasons. Whether it was how brave he was or how cute he was it was all a part of his journey and mine. Intertwined and connected yet separate while simple and complex is our evolution as mother and son.