"They're Gonna Grow Up"

I'm not quite sure how I feel about that phrase.  Nor do I quite know how to respond to people who say, "They're gonna grow up, you know!"  I'm the kind that already gets teary-eyed when anyone mentions anything about my little boy growing up enough to go to school (only two years away!).  But at the same time, I'm also the one who has been a little relieved to know there will come a day when I can actually shower in peace without parenting as I'm doing it.

That dads can shower during daylight hours without interruption is interesting to me. I'm certainly not bitter about it.  It is just one of life's curious facts that puzzles me. 

Take Sunday morning for example. While John showered entirely undisturbed, the children asked their mother what he was doing.  And then it was my turn. I gathered my things and might have been six feet away from the bathroom door when I heard little feet pounding rapidly in my direction and I knew that I was only moments from having two extra people try to join me.  So I picked up pace and got the door shut seconds before the ritualistic shower-time conversation began.  It is inevitable that my darling two-some hover outside my door and squabble about things I cannot see or talk to me about anything that comes to mind.  I think I possibly feel a little honored as I imagine they are doing this to either keep me surrounded with their pleasant company or to continually check to make sure I haven't drowned.

"Mommy!"

Yes?

"I saw your coffee cup in the bathroom!"

Yes, I know.  (You see, I was multi-tasking to expedite our departure for church and drank my coffee while monitoring the children as they bathed.  No, coffee just ain't the same when you drink it in those conditions. Trust me on that one.)

"Mommy!!"

It was the Little One this time, using her very loudest voice to make sure it penetrated through a flimsy bathroom door.

Yes?

"Mommy shower?!!"

Yes.  Mommy is going to take a shower.

Just when I heard their dad calling them away from my door, I remembered that John had taken the children with him on an errand the day before.  I had wandered around for the first few minutes trying to think how to best utilize the quietness.  I played piano a little and worked on some writing.  But now as I heard a little voice back outside my door saying, "Mommy shower?  Oh.  Mommy shower."  I realized that maybe I should have used my time alone to shower in peace. 

I know. Someday they're gonna grow up.  There is a myriad of things about this age that I'm going to miss terribly when they do.  Things like their childish artwork in which their people have shirt buttons on their chins and arms where the ears should be. I'll miss them being just the right size to snuggle and I already get heart-pangs to think that this innocent, I'll-believe-anything-you-tell-me stage will end.  I'll miss the mispronounced words and darling kiddie quotes that I never get tired of, no matter how wearing the day has been.  I already know that someday I'm going to truly miss this golden age of parenting.

On the other hand, however, I can't imagine missing the days of having to turn off my water to be able to respond to the strings of unintelligible words being hollered at me through the bathroom door.  It sounded like he was telling me someone had fallen.  Was someone hurt? 

"Mommy!!!"  

Water off.  

I could hear him clearly now.  

"Mommy!! Don't fall down!!"  

Thanks, Son. Thanks a lot.