The difference between

The difference between being a mom and being a free woman is that when you hear of some awful atrocity that has happened you, as a mom, instantly imagine your child in that situation. As a free woman each happening on the nightly news doesn’t keep you up at night with anxiety. And no matter how many times I, as mom, read or remember to let worry go and that it does nothing but put in you in a sate of fear, I still have anxiety. I know this fear isn’t going to stop anything that is meant to happen, but it’s there all the same. And each decision I make regarding my children feels more weighted. When my daughter asks me to do something I pause for a moment before I consider if what she’s asking for is appropriate and I access the safety of where she’ll be, who she’ll be with and what could happen… worst case scenario. I often feel like I’m crazy because I worry about them all the time. And honestly it might not be all worry; I think a big part of parenting is the weight we carry around because we have such enormous responsibility. I am not only responsible for the nourishment, hygiene, and comfort of another person; I am also responsible for what they become and how they see the world. I’m responsible for keeping them alive and keeping them on the path to a well-adjusted adult. It’s momentous. It’s amazing too. Tonight, as I was rubbing Noah’s back as she slept on the trundle for the first time because her little brother was sleeping in the bed for the first time I realized that I’m living one of the best times of my life. I really love being a mom, and I’m sad about how fast they are growing. I know, though that if it was going any slower I would be nuts. The beauty in the labor of child rearing is that it is incredibly fleeting. The precious moments seem to pass even faster. My happiness comes from realizing how cherish these regular moments of them climbing out of the bath tub for the first time without having to be held or told exactly what to do. Noah just climbed out when she was done with her bath and dried off. It’s when doing a mundane daily thing, you see that they’ve grown and who they were yesterday is lost in time. I know we all change everyday and grow, hopefully for the best, but in childhood our children loose a little innocence everyday in exchange for more independence. Isaiah asked me tonight, as I was rocking him to sleep (something I try to do as often as I can) if he could sleep in Noah’s bed. He didn’t really ask, he just told me he wanted to sleep in Noah’s bed. Noah is old enough now to ask for things as opposed to informing me of her desires. And when I walked in later to put Noah down, my stomach flopped when I saw the crib was empty. He’s older than Noah was when she climbed out of the crib, so I know he’s ready according to “what the books or our pediatrician would say” Honestly, I think I’m going to keep him in the crib for a while longer. I’m not sure if he’ll try to get up if he wakes up, so maybe he’s not completely ready. Maybe he's still my little baby.