by Cathy
Perspective is such a key component to life; how we view things in relation to something else. You can get lost in your own world of seemingly gargantuan problems until you hear about the problems of others and suddenly, yours don't seem so big. You can feel like you don't have enough, or feel lucky enough to have a lot, depending on how you look at things based on what others have/don't have. The same logic can be applied to the size of the house you live in, the job you are lucky to have and in this case, the age of your children and how fast they are growing.
This past year has been a milestone of sorts for my girls. This was the first year they attended the same school together as Ari started kindergarten; this coming school year will be a huge deal for Bella as she takes on middle school (or junior high as she pointedly refers to it); and last week, Ari turned six.
Since the 1st of July she has been excited about her birthday. "Mommy! It's July! It's my birthday!" I've heard since July 1st. She's requested to hold meetings on how we will celebrate her birthday, who will be invited, what will be on her cake and in the goody bags. I even received gift requests: "Mommy, let me tell you what I want for my birthday," she mused as she crossed her little arms behind her head contemplatively at bedtime, her mind drifting.
I would lie if I said that I wasn't sad that my girls are growing up. MIDDLE SCHOOL?! Attitude. More serious conversations and issues. Essays on the The Illiad and The Odyssey for homework. Hormones. Bigger kids = bigger problems. On the other hand, it could be worse...they could be off to college.
So, I just keep my perspective to help me through these milestones: they are getting older but they are not "old" yet; compared to the feather-weight size of my five-month old niece, they look "old" and giant and adult-like and heavy when I carry them, with lanky limbs and long arms that don't fit as perfectly around my neck anymore, but when I compare them to other people's grown kids with braces and pimples and drivers licenses and proms and college, they are still babies.
Bella, my 11-year old who still sleeps with her favorite stuffed animals tells me all the time as she sighs towards the direction of her goofy, carefree sister, "I wish I was still little."
"What do you mean?!" I practically shriek. "You ARE still little!"
"No, I mean little like Ari, you know...little."
I decided to throw some perspective her way. "Honey, one day when Ari will be 11 and you will be 16, you will look at her and say, 'I wish I was still little like Ari.'"
She paused as she took that in, my conviction registering just enough for her approval, and she cocks her head to the side and nods, mouth turned downward in that 'you may be right' sort of way.
"So enjoy your years now!!" I finish her off with a cheer.
The night before Ari's birthday, I cuddled up close to her and held my little five-year old for the last time, for tomorrow, she would be six - an age that can no longer be counted on one hand, an age where she's not a toddler but not yet a girl, an age where she is still in limbo enough for me to balance the scales backwards towards my preference.
I tucked her in as a toddler and the next morning, she woke up a little girl. They literally do grow overnight - in a series of nights that meld into days and into months and into years. But if I keep my perspective, I'll see that they will always be my little girls.
