My oldest just turned ten—double digits! What is it about that extra digit that seems so monumental? We spend the majority of our lives in the double digits, so it’s not that crazy.
Is it the passing of time that feels so big? Our children are living, breathing examples of what a difference a decade makes. As we get older, time goes faster, and we don’t always stop and count the years. Our children are literal and visual measurements of time passing.
Or is it the fact that double digits signify an end to little kidhood? He’s not quite a teenager yet, but he’s now on deck, out of the dugout, and waiting for his turn to become one.
My oldest has always seemed older. He is the one I count on, the one with good judgment, and the one who gets things on an intellectual level. But he is also my first baby, and part of me will always see him that way, making this extra digit feel more significant.
I guess, in a sense, it’s an ending. It was the end of the single-digit era of his childhood—a finish line of little boyhood.
Like most endings, it is also a beginning. I salute his maturity and am excited to see the young man he will become.
I now find myself savoring the times I still see the little boy there. When he laughs uncontrollably, the way he still calls me “Mommy,” or when he lets loose with his little brother and acts all crazy and silly, it evokes a time when our house was filled with diapers and the sound of little feet constantly moving.
I savor these moments even more because I don’t know when the last one will be.
And just like the last few bites of a rich dessert or the final sweet moments on the beach before sundown, I deeply appreciate the magnitude of the last drops because I can sense the ending and the impending change that’s coming.
So, while we all get a chuckle out of his shoe now fitting on my foot, part of me is a little sad inside, too. And if that bittersweetness doesn’t perfectly sum up motherhood, I don’t know what does.
