Monday, July 16, 2012

i don't want you to grow up

I know that when he's older, he won't want to cuddle with me anymore. I know that.
Yet, I find myself denying him when he asks me to lay down with him.
He'll ask, "you wanna lay down with me, Mom?"
No baby, Mommy's got stuff to do and I shut the door.
An hour later, I check in on him and he's fast asleep.
I just want to remember that he was my cuddle bug. That he would rub my arm to the point of feeling like my skin went raw while he sucked down his milk from his sippy cup. That his tiny little feet overheat under the covers. That his lips, while sleeping, are always open and his little tiny baby teeth are exposed. 
That those blue, beautiful eyes are what made us all fall in love with him when he first came into this world.
The way he totally captivates my attention when he says little things I never knew a little person could say.
I love the way his nose is so rounded, yet mine is sharp. 
I love his lips, his little peach fuzz, his widow's peak, his tiny little ears...his fake laugh. I'm so in love with him, I don't know what I would do without him. He grabs my face and pulls it towards him and he says, "Mom, you beauuttiiful," when I don't feel an ounce of beauty. 
But every day, I realize he's growing. His birthday is coming up. He's not going to stay little. And I can't remember things anymore. I don't want to forget anything about Andrew, or Jonah, or Gary. 
I want to remember how his toes were little and hair free. I want to remember that he wanted me all the time. How he would smile at me and how cute his little freckles were popping up all over the place. How he tells me, "Mom, I wanna kiss your face," and plants smushy, slobbery sugars all over it.
How every time I look over at him and think, he needs a little trim around his ears. 
Or I wonder if those eyelashes will ever make girls go crazy for him.
And then I think about girls...I think about how I'll be replaced with them come the tween/teen years and how I won't be asked to cuddle with him when he goes to bed. Or how I won't be needed to soothe him with my arm. How I won't be able to give him goose bumps with the tips of my fingers along his back. 
How do I retain those moments, those feelings, with my terrible memory? 
How can I remember things like that? This fear is very realistic. And it keeps growing.
I guess that's why I love snapping pictures so much. For my memory's sake. 
For the sake of my children's children. For the sake of this blog. 
I love you, baby boy.