March 12, 2012

growing

The kids need their clothes changed out again.  Brave needs to be in a 3T top, 4T bottom.  Jubilee needs to be in a 3T.  Zion needs to be in a 5T.  Bright needs to drop the "T" and start wearing youth sizes.
But for now, they are all showing bits of midriff and too much wrist, and the cuffs of dorky socks are peeking out from behind short pant legs.  All because I hate pulling down rubbermade bins and going through closets.  I'd so much rather be blogging.

Not only that, but it means that they are growing.  I have mixed feelings about that.  Oh, its true, I dream of going for walks in the cold night air with my husband after dinner, instead of being confined to the couch after 7:30 p.m., trying to decide if we should put in a comedy flick that probably won't make us laugh or play Scrabble and eat brownies.  The city pulses all around us every night, and here we sit, listening for coughs or whimpers from behind the closed doors down the hall.
And yet, the thought of these floors growing silent makes me sad.  The thought of windows without finger smudges, and living room walls void of coloring pages which have been taped proudly at toddler eye-level...well, it makes me want to run in there right now and curl up beside my kids, taking in the smell of bubblegum toothpaste as they breath slowly into their Thomas the Tank Engine pillow cases.
And yet, no matter how I feel about them growing up, the undeniable fact is, that is exactly what they are doing.  Every day.  Jubilee will want to wear lip gloss and Bright will want a mohawk and Zion will be requesting salad with his dinner and Brave will want me to sign him up for kungfu.  I will be taking away phone privileges instead Play-Doh privileges and we'll be advising our kids on career paths instead of teaching them how to share.
Oh dear me.

I better get those bins down this evening and put my little darlings in the proper sized clothing, and kiss them a few extra times tonight before bed.  I suppose it will be nice, after it has all been said and done, to take walks in the evening with my husband.