A Growing List of Lasts

Tuesday my sweet T turned 11.

How is this possible?!?!

Watching your children grow is all at once excruciating and exhilarating.  It's especially excruciating when you are experiencing all your last child's lasts.

I tried to explain this to him the other night, when I was hugging him a little too tightly, explaining it would be the last 10-year-old hug I would ever receive from my children.  I explained to him that while all of his firsts, and his sister's firsts, and his brother's firsts are significant, so are their lasts.  Especially his, because that means they're my lasts too.

The last time I gave him a bath was the last bath I gave anyone.

The last time I kissed a booboo was the last time I kissed a booboo.

The last time I rocked him to sleep was the last time I rocked a baby.

The last time I wiped his nose was the last time I wiped a nose. (not gonna lie, not gonna miss that)

The time I taught him to tie his shoe or ride a bike or how to burp super loud (c'mon, you've got to teach them some fun stuff) is the last time I'll teach anyone to do those things.

The last time he walks out of the elementary school will be the last time I do too.

The last time he asked me to carry him up the stairs was the last time I'll carry him.  Any of them.  Ever.


I'm having a hard time letting him grow up.  He's my last baby and MY LAST BABY.

My oldest son came home from a trip recently, bent over to hug me, and spoke to me in a voice I didn't recognize.  Where did this man-child come from?  I have three and a half years left with him before he leaves for college.  Just three.  I don't know where all the years in between his birth and now went.

So, it's especially bittersweet to watch T grow up and grow...away, like his brother and even his sister.  Until he does, I know I will treasure every day with this kid who I love so immensely.  And I will enjoy every little milestone, first or last.

Because sometimes it's hard to know just which is which.


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