ElementalMom

Growing Up

I snapped this picture, on the fly, as we were heading out one day. Rowan had asked Jason if he could “do something”. He was impatient with simply staying out of the way as we cast off from the dock, and wanted to be in the thick of things, so Jason had him hold the emergency rudder on the port side, that we’re using while we figure out how to fix the gear box (which is going to be a whole long post of its own over on my other blog, shortly.)

After we were back to dock, and I was sorting pictures, this one struck me. I started showing it to people who don’t really know my sons, and all of them pegged him at 11 or 12.

Um, he’s five. Five years old. A baby still. Right? Please?

As I’m pregnant with our third baby, my brain is naturally focused on baby things. So it’s all the more startling to see my first baby becoming really quite the stellar young man.

A few nights ago, he asked to sleep in his own bed, in his own room. All the way across the boat from us. I know that for most Americans, the notion of a five year old still in bed with his parents is somehow a little squidgy. I’m not going to bother with that discussion here; if you aren’t familiar with the research, go dig it up. Rowan had been getting increasingly annoyed with Kestrel, whose sleeping style is clearly my penance from my mosh pit days. Some nights I can almost hear the Offspring (ha!) in my head while Kes flips around, slamming into every surface around him, including us. And of course, my belly isn’t getting any smaller; I take up more room almost daily.

So there’s my little guy, sleeping in his own bed, by his own choice, totally wrapped up in his moons and stars quilt, surrounded by stuffed animals, in the room we created for him (pictures of that will be on the other blog too, just as soon as I knuckle down and write that post. Wheee!). I woke up and went to check on him at least four times in the night. Like he was a newborn or something. Who’s having trouble letting go? Oh, that would be me.

He’s come back into our bed, and gone back to his… like every milestone Rowan’s faced in his entire development, he’s facing this one with grace and maturity, with no drama, and a great deal of confidence. I’m bracing myself for the day, which I’m sure is coming soon, where he moves out and is gone to his own bed, permanently. And honestly, it’s not like I won’t mind having the extra room. And eventually, it’ll be neat to only share my bed with my husband again.

But between Rowan’s look in that photo, and his sleeping in his bed, I can tell you, I am hoarding every precious moment of these last days of his babyhood. I somehow have a feeling I’m going to need them.