LOSS OF TODDLERHOOD
It's funny how your mind wanders to random places in your memory. It's like your memory is stored away in a card catalog, and every once in a while, a card will jump out of the stack for no particular reason at all. I was thinking about my cousins when they were little. And by little, I mean 2-5 years old because they're only 11 and 12 now.
I was in college when they were born, so I had a lot more free time. I spent part of everyday with them during those first several years, and when I started working I still saw them frequently. Even now, my husband and I take care of them 3 days a week.
I guess that's why I feel like they're mine in a way. I remembered when the oldest would half crawl, half walk into my lap to watch TV. He'd sit there, all warm and baby smelling, fidgeting with my clothes. I would put my arms around his little body and kiss his head. He always liked that. He liked to be held and carried. I guess it made him feel safe.
He used to make these sounds that were part word and part grunt while pointing at something and looking at me inquisitively. His smooth pudgy hand would grasp all but his index finger, which had pillowy pouch segments, topped with a small square nail. It's unbelievable how small he used to be. But he had these huge puppy dog eyes. When they welled up with tears, he'd look at you as if you were the only person in the world that could help him feel better. It never failed to make me cry, which made it that much harder for me to tell him he couldn't play with his toys and his brother's toys too.
Remembering left me with a deep sense of loss. It was almost as if he had passed away. It surprised me to feel that way because, as I mentioned earlier, they are still a large part of my life. I supposed it's simply because I long to go back and experience his infancy again, when the world was new, everything was fascinating and all he wanted to do was sit in my lap and snuggle.
I was in college when they were born, so I had a lot more free time. I spent part of everyday with them during those first several years, and when I started working I still saw them frequently. Even now, my husband and I take care of them 3 days a week.
I guess that's why I feel like they're mine in a way. I remembered when the oldest would half crawl, half walk into my lap to watch TV. He'd sit there, all warm and baby smelling, fidgeting with my clothes. I would put my arms around his little body and kiss his head. He always liked that. He liked to be held and carried. I guess it made him feel safe.
He used to make these sounds that were part word and part grunt while pointing at something and looking at me inquisitively. His smooth pudgy hand would grasp all but his index finger, which had pillowy pouch segments, topped with a small square nail. It's unbelievable how small he used to be. But he had these huge puppy dog eyes. When they welled up with tears, he'd look at you as if you were the only person in the world that could help him feel better. It never failed to make me cry, which made it that much harder for me to tell him he couldn't play with his toys and his brother's toys too.
Remembering left me with a deep sense of loss. It was almost as if he had passed away. It surprised me to feel that way because, as I mentioned earlier, they are still a large part of my life. I supposed it's simply because I long to go back and experience his infancy again, when the world was new, everything was fascinating and all he wanted to do was sit in my lap and snuggle.
posted by Rene at
10:16 PM
