The end of babies

My BIL and pregnant SIL visited over the Thanksgiving weekend. We welcomed their visit as an opportunity to unload the baby items that we still have that haven't been yard-saled, Goodwilled, or given away. (For years, we expected no nieces or nephews would materialize at any point in our children's own childhoods. We were wrong, but it's not shaping up to be a Kennedy-size extended family by any means.)

It's (going to be) a boy, so it was especially poignant to wash and fold all of the remaining baby boy things. I did find that I could not part with this outfit:

I mean really, how could I? :-)

That little fleecy dude turned six two weeks ago. He loves Nintendo more than life itself and likes to create puppets by drawing pictures and taping them to plastic silverware. The ensuing puppet shows are lengthy and sometimes make sense. He loves to draw elaborate poster-size pictures but never colors them--he's all about the line drawing. (A future architect?) He likes to dance but refuses to sing (although he can) and instead he talks. non. stop. He also loves and protects his baby sister (who is NOT A BABY, so she says) when he is not torturing her.

Giving up his last remaining baby clothes was highly symbolic, because it signifies with near 99% certainty (so says my friend Mirena) that we are DONE.

For me, knowing I'm done is completely an intellectual exercise. I simply cannot do it again, but in my heart I'd always love to cuddle another baby and snuffle another newborn baby head. The feeling of tickling little feet in footy pajamas, patting a diapered bum underneath terry cloth and snaps, and getting a gummy grin covered with sweet potatoes--these are always things I'll crave until I hopefully have grandchildren someday.

Rosie has been waking up several times a night the past few days, however--reminding me, do I crave another two years of THAT? Not so much.

The thing is, whether you have one or two or ten kids, they will eventually grow up and you'll be done with babies. No getting around it. My choir friend whose daughter just got married told me that she often wishes she could take her little girl out of the old photos and hug her again, just once. *sniffle* I've been hugging my own children a lot more since she said that.

Children get bigger and take up more space, and they become way more expensive at the same time, but on the plus side they begin to resemble something like rational people. I'm looking forward to enjoying the next phase while also looking back at the past more than a little wistfully.

In the immortal words of that formerly ubiquitous song "Closing Time"--"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." Well, it's true, isn't it? :-)