The kids go to gymnastics once a week.
Once a week I tuck their heads as they tumble through somersaults, lift their reaching hands to the bar or steady their wobbly figures as they navigate the beam. I love my job as gymnasts’ assistant, but every once in a while I glance out at that parent waiting room, see the moms casually chatting and sipping their cappuchinos as they sit still, one eye on a book or a friend, the other on the gymnastics floor, and can’t help but be a bit envious.
The kids decided that they did not need my assistance this week. I could hang out with their little brother, wait within the fish bowl of parents and watch expectantly for each tumble and reach and wobble.
It was strange to see them from afar. To watch their three feet of perfectness manage the world for a few minutes without me. To see how they interact when our distance spanned more than their toes tripping over mine.
I was proud of them and their bouncing little selves and cherished the short time I had to spend with their brother, keeping him occupied at the window by finding Mommy’s eyes and nose and mouth, Mommy’s eyes and nose and mouth, until I’m sure all of the onlookers just wanted to point to my features for him, putting an end to my cheesy face song.
With one chubby finger obstructing my view I looked out at my ever-changing gymnasts and realized they hadn’t looked my way in a while. No one had turned with a Mommy-I-did-it light in their eyes since their first set of tumbles. They had forgotten about me for a few minutes, which is healthy and good and part of growing up, I know it is. But for some reason my eyes started to water a bit.
This distance I was watching them from was going to continue to grow.
I blinked a little bit because I should be happy, I am so close to being that mom sitting still in her seat, clapping proudly even though her gymnasts are too far away to hear, the mom I thought I was anxious to be.
There I was, watching my big kids somersault through a blurry window.
One chubby finger still prodding my eye, a perfect explanation for the tears.
The gymnasts and the eye poker, the only one who ever looks at the camera.
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Oh I love this, it's such a perfect illustration of this part of being a good parent. Enabling our children to sand on their own two feet but feeling sad at the same time for the growing distance.
I know the feeling 🙂 Its so hard to have them grow up.
Very sweet post. I bet when they came out the light was in their eyes, and the distance closed up with a nice big hug.
They absolutely did. Thank you for reminding me.
The gymnasts and the eye poker is the perfect title for your manuscript.
Although I guess you'd have a few more people to fit in there. You'll figure it out, I'm sure 🙂
Quite literally laughing out loud! The little eye poker is a peanut and a half! So cute!
You won't always be poked in the eye; eventually you will be able to enjoy and clap uninterrupted. 🙂
Pure sweetness.
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I think this is what being a mom is all about- happy and sad at the same time, and glad that you're both.
Very true.
With my first child, I would stay at the gym the entire time, watching my little girl and beaming. Four kids later, I drop them off and go run errands during that hour. I need to make time to watch outside the window again.
Isn't it funny how you start to take something for granted after so many kids? There are little things that I always try to make sure I notice about my youngest, even if I have seen them in each of the kids before.
Found you via SITS, by the way. And I love your blog. 🙂
So precious. Love reading this!
Thanks for visiting, just stopped by to see you, Happy Anniversary.
It's so hard to let them go. I find myself all the time thinking, well in a couple of years…and then I stop myself. I know in a couple of years, the hardships I go through now will be gone (and most likely replaced with new ones), and I'll be free to read a book or watch a TV show or take a nap…but with those hardships gone, so will tiny chubby toes and perfect little belly buttons and soft blankets and silky smooth hair and wide toothless grins and huge blue eyes and wobbly walks…and…and…and…I so bad want them to grow up and at the same time I'm so afraid of it.
Great post!
You said it so well, one of these days we will look back and not remember a bit of the craziness.
Aww.. they are soo cute.. I love how the little one is the only one looking straight at the camera – he's got such a beautiful smile.
It must be hard, to watch your children grow up, to see them become more independent… Even though it's a good thing – I can't imagine how difficult it would be as a mom. But, it means you are doing a great job, if your children are comfortable, knowing that mommy is watching from a distance – they can be independent, but they always have you to lean on.
Thank you. My youngest is the charmer, he is always the one connecting with the camera and anyone who passes him by for that matter.
Such a bittersweet moment!
Sweet post. I now watch from a distance while mine puts the keys in the car and drives himself to baseball practice. Sometimes my heart aches at the thought.
Oh boy, I can't even imagine that day, don't you just want to climb into the car with him??
It's so hard to watch them get bigger, isn't it? But such a joy at the same time. Nothing like being a mom.
Absolutely, nothing like being a mom.
Awww. Dustyn is getting more independent. It is so sad 🙁
I know, we want it for them but then we don't.
aww~! i know! it's so sad when they don't need us anymore but really they will always need us! so presh!:)
I keep telling myself that, most days I don't need to though because they are all pretty needy still but one of these days they will need me just as much but in different ways.