I'm not ready.....
The emptiness of the room was short lived. I had really only a few short moments to stand absorbing the vastness of the space. Void the result of my dismantling. Piece by piece, screw by screw. Zoë helped with the project with what little time she had before leaving for school. Zane took over when she left ably carrying out the bulk of the work as in Zoë's absence he was senior. Good fortune for Zia that there had been a two hour school delay otherwise she would have been entrusted to tasks she probably is not ready for. But she cheerfully assisted when asked carrying things here and there and generally keeping the twins occupied and out of the way. Generally, I say because more than once I had to inform Zella that she was holding the hammer backwards or ask Zander to please bring back the screws.
It was a family project. Rightly so, I suppose as our subject had directly affected each one of them. Comfort.... Warmth.... Security.... Serenity.... Peace.... Rejuvenation.... Exploration.... Laughter.... Tears.... Sunrises.... Moonlight.... Five perfect children.... Seven and one half years....
They write books that tell you what to expect. Poop is not always brown, or solid but usually stinky. They made diaper pales for this. Ears sometimes hurt. They made antibiotics for just such occasions. Feelings sometimes hurt. They made hugs for these times. Band aids have magical pain relieving powers. Keep plenty on hand. Sometimes your baby gets hot. They make Tylenol for this. Babies goo-goo, toddlers fall down (a lot), kids can scream (real loud). All these things they tell you in books. But there's something missing.
Babies grow up. I suppose that since this is something the writers of these books assume that we as parents expect, they don't have a whole lot of information on how to handle that. The guide books give all sorts of advice about what the kid is supposed to be doing and when they are expected to be doing it. What they left out is what I am supposed to do when they get there. How am I supposed to handle the transition, the transformation, the inevitable? They didn't tell me that when my kids grow older I would miss their innocence, their infancy, their past. They didn't tell me that I may hurt. They assumed that my expectation that my children would grow up meant that I could handle it.
Friday morning, the twins celebrated their second trip around the sun. They sat in a chair without their booster seats to eat cake and ice cream. They tore open presents with a fervor. They said things like, "Please," and "Thank You." And later that evening, they went to bed.
In their new beds.
Friday morning, with the help of my children, I dismantled the cribs. Seven and one half years a part of the room. Comforting first Zoë, then Zane, Zia, Zella and Zander. Now stored neatly in the attic next to boxes of onsies and infant outfits long since forgotten. The emptiness of the room was quickly filled with the seeming enormity of twin beds making it seem much smaller than it actually is. And much more grown up than I am actually ready to handle. My kids are growing up.
I'm not ready.
It was a family project. Rightly so, I suppose as our subject had directly affected each one of them. Comfort.... Warmth.... Security.... Serenity.... Peace.... Rejuvenation.... Exploration.... Laughter.... Tears.... Sunrises.... Moonlight.... Five perfect children.... Seven and one half years....
They write books that tell you what to expect. Poop is not always brown, or solid but usually stinky. They made diaper pales for this. Ears sometimes hurt. They made antibiotics for just such occasions. Feelings sometimes hurt. They made hugs for these times. Band aids have magical pain relieving powers. Keep plenty on hand. Sometimes your baby gets hot. They make Tylenol for this. Babies goo-goo, toddlers fall down (a lot), kids can scream (real loud). All these things they tell you in books. But there's something missing.
Babies grow up. I suppose that since this is something the writers of these books assume that we as parents expect, they don't have a whole lot of information on how to handle that. The guide books give all sorts of advice about what the kid is supposed to be doing and when they are expected to be doing it. What they left out is what I am supposed to do when they get there. How am I supposed to handle the transition, the transformation, the inevitable? They didn't tell me that when my kids grow older I would miss their innocence, their infancy, their past. They didn't tell me that I may hurt. They assumed that my expectation that my children would grow up meant that I could handle it.
Friday morning, the twins celebrated their second trip around the sun. They sat in a chair without their booster seats to eat cake and ice cream. They tore open presents with a fervor. They said things like, "Please," and "Thank You." And later that evening, they went to bed.
In their new beds.
Friday morning, with the help of my children, I dismantled the cribs. Seven and one half years a part of the room. Comforting first Zoë, then Zane, Zia, Zella and Zander. Now stored neatly in the attic next to boxes of onsies and infant outfits long since forgotten. The emptiness of the room was quickly filled with the seeming enormity of twin beds making it seem much smaller than it actually is. And much more grown up than I am actually ready to handle. My kids are growing up.
I'm not ready.
Well said.
It is bittersweet.
Yeah, I suppose some of the sting is tempered by the fact that I'm now lying awake at night listening for the inevitable thud.
...and so the world turns, your children grow at an incredible rate and yet you don't grow old at all, not even when your children are all growed up.
Until you go to a friends house like I did at the weekend and his two small children tell you that you must be 700 years old and then insist on calling you grandad for the rest of the night.
I'm not ready for this yet.
Aw man. Are you allowed to smack your friends kids in these instances?
I'm with you. I'm not ready either. May I have my tissues back?
Certainly. That's why the boxes are so big, right? So you can share.
*sigh* I know how you feel. It hurts.
I'm sure it'll stop one day. It's supposed to make you stronger, right?
Excellent post Ed.
They just don't stop growing. My wife has tried asking our kids repeatedly. They either don't know how to stop, or just refuse to comply.
I keep telling mine the same thing. I think Zia had the best answer. "Dad, if I stop growing I'll be dead. You don't want that, do you?" She's 3. Smart kid.
Nice post. And happy birthday to the twins.
Thanks for the birthday wishes. They had a blast and I'm happy to report after four nights have only fallen out of bed once a piece.l
Awww, very exciting, and yes sad. I keep telling my nieces they're not allowed to grow any more - but they just don't listen! 8-\
On the plus side, with age comes the ability to do chores!
Happy Super Tuesday!!
Yeah, mine want to help but can't quite understand it's actually creating more work for me in the end. Most of the time I let them do it anyway.
Just yesterday, my oldest was your twins age. Today, she's almost 14. I don't think anyone is ever ready for their kids to grow up.
I know. Just last month Zoe was 7 and now she's going on 14. What happened??!!
I do wonder if I'll miss the crib. I'm hoping we're done (fingers crossed) but our baby (2.5 years old) is content in the crib. I imagine she will use it until she's three or more. So this thought has not even crossed my mind.
But I think I will be happy when the crib comes down. That is, after she gets used to the freedom of running about in her room and gets tired of ripping everything apart.
The twins were completely happy in their cribs as I was with them in their cribs. However, Zella had somehow figured out how to get out of hers and into Zander's. Kind of creepy to wake them in the morning to find two kids in one crib when you know that's not how you left them.