Growing

My 6 year old came home from school yesterday, jumped down from the last bus step in his usual spring board like manner. He came running toward me, arms outstretched for a hug. We came into the house, back pack thrown to the floor, shoes kicked off in different directions. He grabbed the iPad, headed to the cabinet to retrieve a snack, and nestled into a counter stool for a few minutes of decompression before the tiresome after school routine (dinner, read, homework, bath, play, 5 minute warning 15 times, bed) began again like groundhogs day.

But something about my now 6 and half year old was subtly different today. I felt him get older, sitting there, eating crackers. It was nothing overt or outspoken, more like the way you can sense snowfall despite a forecast of clear skies. The air hangs heavy with a smell that you can feel in your throat when you swallow a deep breath. But just like that, I saw my tiny toddler melt away a little more that day, replaced by a taller, leaner being, capable of backtalk and words that, though he doesn't quite appreciate them yet, carry meaning. His questions are direct and not as easily answered, (why do we go to Church if God is supposed to be everywhere?), and his anxieties about his world (I feel embarrassed when the 3rd graders laugh at me on the bus, why do they do that?) not as easily explained away.

So as 2018 begins, and I smell the emergence of a new age, somewhere north of toddler and still south of teen, I'm trying to hold onto my parenting confidence which is still constantly rattled. Amidst a sea of year end conference calls and client crisis, I realized the baby still hasn't began to sleep through the night yet. And as his first birthday peeks at us from the calendar I'm reminded just how little I actually know about raising children (and how much I need to avoid baby blogs). Deep breaths, calm voices, and lots of hugs.