They’ll Grow Out of It Eventually

“That’s it! Today is the day we end this nonsense. When I say ‘it’s time for bed’ that means it’s time for bed, and you are going to lay down and go to sleep” I said not just to myself but out loud to my 1 year old. Sometimes I am just exhausted with the effort it takes to put a baby to sleep and have them stay asleep – especially when 3 other children are waiting for my attention, and the chores are mounting. However, my will power alone was not enough to make my baby go to sleep just because I said so. As I sat back down with him in the rocking chair, I tried to encourage myself with “He’ll grow out of this eventually. (Right?)” and then it hit me:

“He’ll grow out of this eventually.”

Those same words viewed from a different perspective took on a whole different meaning. Instead of impatiently awaiting the day when he grows out of needing me to help him sleep, I hugged him tighter imagining the day when I won’t feel his little arms squeezed tightly around my neck and his little voice calling out for “Mommy.” I continued to rock him as tears rolled down my face, and I thanked God for a new perspective.

When he finally did go to sleep, and I laid him soundly in his bed I went downstairs only to be met with a barrage of questions, demands, and requests from my three girls. Normally, I would have inwardly (or not so inwardly) groaned and said “no” and that I had other things to do; but armed with my new perspective, I said “yes” to coloring horse pictures in the playroom and helping my 9-year-old “write a book about herself.”

Today I was reminded that one day my 4-year-old won’t ask me to play horses with her anymore.

She’ll grow out of that eventually.

My 7-year-old won’t always be asking for my attention to look at her pictures, dance moves or hula hoop maneuvers for the 100th time.

She’ll grow out of that eventually.

My 9-year-old won’t interrupt my bed-making by wanting to jump under the covers and get “made up in the bed.”

She’ll grow out of that eventually.

My toddler won’t always follow me around wanting to be held.

He’ll grow out of that eventually.

They’ll all grow out of wanting to call me “Mommy” instead of “mom,” of wanting me to read them 5 stories at bedtime, of wanting me to play silly games with them. They’ll grow out of calling my name 500x a day and asking for my help with every activity (even if they don’t really need it.) Of course they’ll still need and want my attention, my affection, and my words of praise; but it will be different. And I know I will miss the days when they fought over who got to sit next to Mommy and when they still asked for 3 more hugs at bedtime. I will miss their little arms holding on to me and their little voices singing or “Neigh”ing way too loudly. I will miss hearing them race their horses across the upstairs floor, and I will miss seeing their little wet footprints on my bathroom rug. One day my home will be quiet, and my house will be clean; and I will miss them. So instead of shooshing them and looking to the day they “grow out of it,” I’m going to embrace it and plunge into with them as long as they’ll have me.