Summer's End

I smell like chlorine, and there is Play-Doh under my fingernails.  I have 4 woodland creature stickers on my shoulder and arm.  It's been a good day with the Nugget, and the listening fish jar is practically full.  August is fickle; she seems to welcome you with the promise of weeks left before school, then she snatches them away.  August chokes us with heat and humidity so thick you feel like you're swimming through the air, then treats us to the first whispers of autumn.  She is summer's end, get it while you can.

This week, I've tried to memorize the hollow thump of his red playground ball, the way his curls tighten against the back of his neck when he's sweating, the way he flops on his back and flips his feet all the way up over his head the second his bottom hits couch.  The way he tap dances, his torso loose and relaxed, his arms gesturing wildly, his feet stomping out a rhythm like he already knows the steps.  His nervous laughter as he pedals his big boy bike, equal parts terrified and delighted.  His sweet little boy's voice telling us such gems as,

"I teached you how to swim!  You did a good job.  But I am tired from teaching you, because it was a lot of work."

"Llama, when my jar is full of listening fish, I get to go to a place that has pancakes.  It's called Bob, Evans."

The way he marvels with hyperbole about the littlest things,

"This is the most tallest tree I have ever seen!"

The way he encourages us to try new things, the same way we encourage him to just try a bite of casserole.  "Daddy, let's go talk to Neighbor G!  Let's ask him how his day was!"  "Mommy, let me show you how to hit a baseball.  I know you can do it!"

I am coming to peace with our family just as it is.  I am no less a mother than one blessed with 2, 3, or 6 children (although I'm getting more sleep and food than they are).  I'm not saying we're done...just that I have finally found peace and contentment here, and that's worth celebrating.  I have finally learned how to live in the moment, and maybe that's what our trials were all about.

It's not that I would go back and do anything differently with the Nugget as a baby or a toddler, it's just that I wasn't emotionally prepared to wave goodbye to those chapters of life, those stages of growth.  I thought I'd get a chance for a "do-over".  That I'd surely get to revisit those challenges and treats with more calm and wisdom.  Now I feel like I'm more present for this age, because maybe, possibly, likely it's the last time I'll ever get to be mommy to a 4 year old.  The enthusiasm, the anger at being told he's not quite as big as he thinks he is, the giddiness...I can marvel at these little grains of time as they sift through my fingers.  And the truth is, I should have been doing this all along, because even if I did get to visit the ages and stages all over again, it wouldn't be with the Nugget.

Bags are packed in our front hallway, full of Kleenex, naptime essentials, and a current photo to tape to the Nugget's locker, reminders of what's to come.  The Nugget pages through albums of what's behind us, adding his own perspective and blurring the tense, "Mama, when I was a baby, I will be able to talk.  When I was a baby, I don't like peas."