So fast...

Many days it hits me how fast they're growing...

How well P is reading now. How well A is speaking now.

I see them putting their laundry in the hamper and fighting over who gets more lap space for a book, I see P reading to A, see A initiating a game or sharing his food, and it hits me how fast they are growing.

I watch movies or shows, read articles or blogs, talk to people, and it all hits me that time is just constantly moving forward and it's all just flying by.

In a couple of months Ambrose will be 2 and Paxton will be 6 and in school. How? When? Weren't they just babies?

Someday, before I know it, they'll be gone. Out of the house, living their own lives. And then there will probably be grandbabies and they'll do the same thing, grow up and make a life for themselves.

And while I'm proud, so proud, it really aches.

How much longer before my boys don't ask for "huggies" and "kissies?" How long before an ice cream cone is not the greatest gift they've ever received? How long until I'm no longer cool, until they share their biggest secrets with friends they may only have for a few years instead of their parents who will be with them always?

On some level I understand that the desire to have another child is almost a way to escape the rapid growth of my children. A new baby, to snuggle and cuddle and love on as my bigger children keep getting bigger. But then that baby would grow and change just the same.

There are so many benefits to older children and teens and adult children who no longer live at home, or even those who do. So little responsibility on my part compared to a toddler, more help around the house, intelligent conversation, traveling together, sharing books, watching R rated movies, playing video games together, staying up late, fun homework assignments, and just watching them grow and become who they are meant to be.

And yet...

A tiny little body, not yet 30 lbs, running over with a book in each fist and a huge smile on his face and flopping into my lap squealing "book! Read!".... that will end soon, and while I can experience it with another child I will never have those certain individual and wonderful moments back.

The pure innocence of my children, their laughter, the silly things they do now... I will lose those soon as they hit on their next phases.

And the really weird thing?

I don't actually vividly remember or even desperately long for the phases they've already been through. I mean, yeah, I get all mushy and weepy when I'm staring at pictures of newborn Ambrose or toddler Paxton for too long, but mostly I just marvel at how big they are now comparatively and move on. So I know that it actually *won't* be a big deal once they leave this phase and grow a bit, and that I'll just get weepy over the next phase thinking that that's the best one.

So yeah, consciously I know I'm just a big ole dork who is plain weepy and just looking for an outlet. And yet.....

Today P asked if we could rush home from church so he could check on his new "fishy wishy" (his first we got yesterday and it died last night, so he's particularly worried about this new one we got this morning). And just hearing the silly words.... yeah, I kinda got sad knowing that would end soon.

Okay, have to end this, baby just woke up from nap. Time for little toddler cuddles!