Last week at church, a woman in her late 50s or early 60s came up to me, clearly responding to my exhausted attempts to chase down my children and told me I should keep in mind that this is the time of "long days and short years." I have to say, I haven't heard too many phrases that were more on the mark.
I am continually amazed by how grown up my children are, especially as I try to remember to savor the last bits of "baby-ness" of Truman, who I expect to be my last. But even that is getting tough, now that he is speaking in full sentences and becoming more and more capable by the day. Of course, the fact that one of his favorite full sentences is, "I snuggle my mama" makes that a little easier to take. Still, the amazement of the gymnastics instructors yesterday at his strength and ability makes me both proud and a little sad. And when I look at him in his little white tuxedo from his christening on Easter eve, it nearly takes my breath away, he is such a little man.
Izzy is getting big too, stretching out of the bottoms of all of her pants and begging to go to ballet camp this summer. She still likes to come into our bed and snuggle at night, but she's already picking up her sister's preteen attitude a little more than I'd like. It even makes Kate laugh and comment, "wow, Izzy is 3 going on 14!" For instance, a couple of weeks ago, Izzy was angry at me (I can't recall the exact reason now...I'm sure it was for some terrible affront like making her wear shoes or be strapped into her carseat) so once she got in the car, she put on her sunglasses and "called" Angelina (that would be the storybook character, Angelina Ballerina - a mouse dancer), and started chatting with her as if we weren't there, saying, "You are joking! Don't joke me like that! Don't worry, I'll be there at 10:30...ok, ok...I'm coming. I'll be there!" Kate and I were both in stitches, which got us a stern talking to by Miss Iz.
And Kate...well, she's going off to 7 straight weeks of sleepaway summer camp this summer. Need I say more? I really was not sure I could cope with it (and still am not sure about it, to be honest), because I know how much I missed her last year when she was gone for 4 weeks. She thinks this is funny and tells me that she will be just fine. The thing is, I know she'll be fine. She's so amazingly independent and self-sufficient. So now, I'm working on not taking it personally that she can't wait to be grown up and away from me. It was this very thing that was at the heart of the most difficult time my mother and I had, so I guess it's best if we start working it out now, one summer at a time.