Watching him go

Luke has figured out how to crawl.  He’s pretty fast, too.  He’ll see something he wants — like his stuffed monkey lying two feet away — and he’ll start moving those little legs.  Next thing you know, he’s got the monkey pinned to the ground in a wrestling hold.

Part of me beams with pride.  I see him and think, You go, little dude!  The world is yours!

Another part of me feels dread in the pit of my stomach at the thought of re-babyproofing the house.

And another part of me watches him scoot and feels a stab of sadness.  I see him and think, Can’t he stay a baby just a little bit longer?  Just a bit?

These three different feelings often coexist at exactly the same moment.  That could be worrisome to me, but it isn’t.  I know that it doesn’t mean I’m emotionally unbalanced, or anything like that.

It just means I’m a mom.

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