Size 1

In a small burst of energy last night I went into a bit of an organizing tizzy. Hang up jackets. Open mail. Clean out diaper bag. Hidden at the bottom of the bag, among the wadded tissue and gum wrappers, beneath the orange sippy cup, I uncover a sweet relic, a Huggies diaper, size 1. I stopped and indulged myself in a moment of melancholy. I know I'm going to have these moments over and over again as my boys navigate their way through childhood, leaving yesterday's playthings behind. That size 1 diaper, so tiny, no bigger than the size of my hand. Two sizes and five fat rolls later, my newborn is no longer a newborn. I often get this same wistful feeling when I see pictures of them and wish I could go back to that moment and hold them again and pray I held them enough.

How many times have you heard "They grow up so fast"? Now we know, don't we? We're a part of the "enjoy this time while they're young" club. Oh how we know. Kids mark the passage of time with a big, fat metaphorical Sharpie. I can't think of much else that displays time in quite such a marked fashion.

Today, in keeping with that state of mind, I decided to go ahead and do the dreaded kids' clothes season switch. I sat in the middle of the room surrounded by piles of clothes...new season, old season, Goodwill, Louie's to be passed on to Ace, and then the ones Ace has outgrown. Lump in my throat.

The night feedings are gone. Of course, I'm pleased to be getting full nights of sleep again, but there is a tiny (I said tiny) part of me that will miss those moments when the house is dark and silent, after I feed him and he lies heavy and limp in my arms. Nuzzled into my neck, his soft breath rhythmic and warm.

I am awestruck by the ability these little ones have to reduce us to fragile skeletons of our former selves. It's a vulnerability like no other. Stripped clean and heart in our hands, we offer it to them. And say, "Take it...it's yours. All yours."