A little maudlin, but true

Macklin is losing the last trappings of babyhood; they're fading away as quickly as the snow melted last week, replaced by soft green grass and pink buds at the tips of tree branches.

I'm seeing a pattern with our young one. When he's done, that's it - he knows his own mind. For example, after 14 months of nursing, Macklin woke up on Christmas Eve 2009 and decided that he was done nursing. He cuddled next to me, took one look - up at my face and back down - then shook his head and turned away. And that was that. Tears welled in my eyes when I realized he was done, but I was proud that my little boy was confident and secure, ready to move on to other things. I just wished that I had some warning, so I could cherish that last nursing, soak up the familiar feeling of warmth, and memorize the image of his rosy cheeks and milky mouth. As much as nursing was a struggle, it was also an amazing experience, and I was sad to see it end.

Last weekend, Macklin grew up again. This time, he decided he no longer needed to be rocked before bed. Our bedtime ritual hasn't changed since he started sleeping through the night: after dinner, we wash hands and face and brush teeth. Then we change diaper, lotion up, get into footie pj's, and drink milk while reading a book. Finally, Macklin turns out the light and leans back in my arms for some cuddling and rocking for a few minutes before I lay him in the crib and tiptoe out. Rocking slowly in the dark room, feeling his fingers twirling my hair and his downy head in the crook of my arm, I would try to erase thoughts of work from my mind and just be present with my little guy.

Not anymore. The ritual stays the same - usually with the book re-read after he asks, "Agee?". But last Friday, Macklin decided he was done with rocking; after turning the light out, I tried to rock him, but he put his hand on my chest and pushed me away. He repeated this Saturday and Sunday night, so tonight I just laid him down without being pushed - he went right to sleep. To top it off, it's too warm for fuzzy footie pj's, so he's wearing new footless jammies. Those darn sock monkey-emblazoned jammies make him look like a big boy, even though they're too big and hang past his toes. (It would be adorable, if I weren't so sad that he doesn't need rocking and cuddling anymore.)

At the advice of our doctor, we're phasing out the bottles, too - he can drink well from a cup, but he loves the bottles, and I hesitate to lose them since I'm losing my baby as he grows into a big boy before my very eyes.

I will miss having a cuddly, small baby content to be in my arms, but I admit - it is sometimes fun to have a toddler. Like the other night, when he discovered my red-painted fingernails and stared in wonder, or tonight when he wanted to spread the lotion on his own tummy. When I'm sad to be missing my little baby, I'll try to remember Louis Armstrong and the wonders that lay ahead, too.

I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They're really saying I love you.

I hear babies crying, I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll never know
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world.