When Your Baby Is No Longer A Baby

Things are slowly beginning to take on a new and different shape around our home.  The cupboard no longer has a shelf designated for just sippy cups.  Smaller bowls with cartoon designs have been replaced by a stack of small fruit nappies.  There is no longer a diaper bag just inside the door ready to be grabbed as we slip out the door.  And there are no booster seats or high chairs pulled up to the table.

Even the toys are taking on a different form.  Each room has its own collection of Lego, stacks of books and various forms of building toys and trucks.  Gone are the Mega Bloks.  There isn't a Little People bus to be found.

Although the shapes of things have changed and roles are beginning to alter as each of the boys grow older, there are some fundamental parts of our family that will always remain the same. The twins will always be the oldest, or 'the big boys' as I call them. Sweet Evan will always be our very middle boy. Nicholas, our most determined boy. And Dylan is our baby.


A few weeks ago our baby turned 4.  Just like all parents we asked ourselves how so much time had passed so quickly.  He's so clearly not a baby any longer but there is still just enough little in him to help take the sting of his growing up away.  We celebrated with his choice of birthday supper - spaghetti and meatballs.  His brothers gave him our traditional simple birthday gifts - chocolate bars.  He was a happy little boy.

My sweet boy, Dylan, is quick to smile, spreads his love around freely with hugs for people when he greets them, and he is always excited to head out to do something.  He tells me he loves me at least 15 times a day.  He loves big.  He expects everyone loves him in return.  He plays hard.  His biggest fear is squirrels.

And each night when it's time to be tucked into bed, I stand just outside his bedroom door with his little arms wrapped around my neck.  He calls out good-night to everyone in turn and waits for the response he clearly anticipates. He almost always includes his beloved pets Kacy the dog, Minnie the cat and Red Bandit the guinea pig. Then his little head snuggles in to my shoulder, his thumb pops into his mouth and he tells me one last time he loves me as I carry him into his bed. 

Even though the number of years say he might not be a baby any longer, he will always be my baby.  

A Stolen Moment

Sweet Dylan, my baby.

Big blue eyes with the longest eyelashes that brush his soft cheek.  Soft blond hair that once hung long in wispy curls now cut to reflect the boy he is becoming.  Rosy full lips smile sweet and plant warm kisses.  Lanky in leg and arm, he stands tall.

He is a boy who deeply loves all within his world.  Each day he tells me how he loves me, often he folds me in a close hug while telling me so.  He fully expects we return the love and basks in being doted on by his patient older brothers.  And they do.  And we all do.  Because he is our Dylan.

But please do NOT try to make him do what he has set his mind against.  Then you will meet the stubborn Dylan that hides beneath a blanket or sits sullenly showing you only his back.  A boy who feels love so deeply also feels hopes shattered just as deeply.

Recently a busy morning began with Dylan visiting a JK class in preparation for school days in the fall.  Attending his brothers' doctor's appointment followed where we sat waiting an hour.  The early afternoon was spent helping Daddy in his workshop.  A boy, still only three, full of life, sometimes needs a rest on a day so filled with busyness.

Eyelids drooping, thumb found its way into his mouth.  Sleepy Dylan refusing to lie down or sit to read a story.  Resistance beginning to waiver, allowing me to snuggle him close against my chest while standing and swaying a rocking rhythm perfected from many days practice.  My off-key rendition of 'Hush Little Baby' sung as a mantra echoing many nights gone by.  It is a version of the lullaby only my children appreciate.

Arms trembling with the holding of him.  Legs cramping from the swaying.  Back aching from the weight of him.  Voice cracking with the singing on repeat.  Until his lovely eyes flutter closed to rest in slumber.  Until his frowning face relaxes into sweetness.  Until his body softens into mine.

I stay holding him close and remember him daily sleeping in my arms: the snuggles and cuddles, the nursing, the days when I was his world.  Sweet, sweet memories cherished in every mother's heart.

Some days mommy knows best and has to push hard to meet her little ones' needs.  This day it was to
help him fall asleep.  And in the toiling through the refusing and crying and complaining and pushing of it all, mommy got the best reward - a moment stolen from the past.  A stolen moment of rocking her sleeping baby.