They grow up too fast

My husband Adam is very excited about the prospect of our son AJ starting T-ball this spring.  Very excited. He has been waiting for this on some level since that day several years ago, in a darkened exam room, when we were watching the screen of the ultrasound machine looking for answers.  The technician asked us if we wanted to know the sex of the baby and we both, in unison, barked out a quick yes with such force that it actually startled her.  I had plans for a Red Sox themed nursery; Adam had plans for a lifetime of pitching, coaching and great escapes to Fenway with his little buddy.

     So, I of course created a killer Red Sox nursery that my husband deemed so good it could be a man-cave.  He, in turn, began buying catcher’s mitts and tiny baseball bats since AJ first began to crawl.  At one point every t-shirt I put on that child had a baseball theme. 

     When people would ask, “What if he likes soccer instead?”  I would stand back.  I didn’t really care which he preferred but Adam would roll his eyes and offer a quick, “Ya, that probably won’t happen.”

     Now the time is drawing near for the actual playing to begin and it seems it has arrived so quickly.  I mean, wasn’t he just a baby a minute ago?  I am not ready for him to be a sweaty little slugger yet.  Do sluggers still cuddle with their mommy and asked to be rocked when they don’t feel well?   I don’t know.

     I have done all this before, just the female version.  With two grown daughters I have already lived through the feeling of them being babies one minute and team players the next.  It happened in a blink of an eye back then and it is happening too fast now.  Something changes once they take steps away from you that involve organized sports.  They become part of a team and form bonds and friendships that you are happy they have found…yet it leaves you alone, on a bench cheering for someone who does not need you like they once did.

     Don’t get me wrong, all of this is really, really good and will create amazing experiences, lessons and memories.  It is simply the start of a new leg of the journey in raising a child and I always seem to find myself a little sad that the time of baby/toddler adventures has reached its end.  Strangely, I am also one that thinks every “stage” of their lives is such a good stage that the transitions are always emotionally hard for me.

     Maybe that is it.  I know what is coming.  More transitions.  More steps away from me.  More independence until that day I see him, cap and gown on his head, driving away because my job is pretty much done.

     I have been there before and I know it will come again.  T-ball registration has proved it.