Every season brings something new, and as we enter into a new one I can already feel myself longing for the one that just passed. Time is so cruel that way. We get used to our routines, and then they all of a sudden change and I find myself just trying to keep up. I'm amazed at how sometimes I don't notice the subtle changes, and then one day am just floored at how different life is.
This is a theme I see in many areas of my life, but particularly in parenting. Recently, Charlie stopped needing help getting his bike helmet on, and I am not dealing well with that change. It's such a small but powerful reminder that he is growing up, gaining independence and that he needs me less than he did yesterday. I am proud of who he is, but where is my baby? I feel so melancholy over watching my boys grow up. I feel personally accomplished when they learn new things, speak new things or exhibit new characteristics. But there is also a sense of mourning with every new milestone for the stage we just left behind. Some are harder for me than others and I can't always foresee what will lay heavy on my heart.
When things get me down I feel the need to dive into old routines, or start new ones. Yesterday I viciously purged my own closet (I'll be in plaid shirts from now on, as it's all that is left in there), and I cleaned the kids' rooms. Today I'm making us some comfort food and folding laundry. Those mundane and routine tasks help me feel better. Even though they're chores. I just need to be reminded that not everything changes. Thank you laundry, for being reliably terrible and unending.
Of course I know that life is so good. It's just that life is so good it literally hurts me to think of it changing in any way. I always come to realize that every new season is just as wonderful as the one before, but sometimes I can't help but wish time would slow down just a little bit.