I took my children to the playground this morning. In the mornings the temperature is still bearable, and we had some shade and wind to help. I pushed them over to the park by our house in our double stroller. Another one of our "best used buys" for the second child.
My youngest is starting to walk. He still looks like a limping grandpa sometimes, but it's really cute to see him waddle around the house walking in circles from room to room. He gets into a lot of trouble. He climbs things he's not supposed to. He'll find nooks and crannies to plop himself down in and sit.
My oldest is fiercely acting like a teenager. Threenagers are legit, let me tell you. She wants everything a certain way and it has to be done just like that. At the same time, she's great with using words to explain things to me. She has the memory of a dolphin - if I can't find something, I ask her where it is, and she can tell me where to find it. We were almost at a 100% streak but then she started not knowing where a few things were. Eh, gotta still give the kid some credit. Pretty nifty that I can use my three year old to find things for me. Most of the time. She also flips through books by herself while waiting for me or when playing by herself and loves playing my piano. I can already see it, my mini-me following in my footsteps.
At the playground, my son took off climbing up the steps. I followed him, and he went straight for one of the slides. At a previous park adventure this week, he figured out how to turn over onto his belly and slide down slowly. Today, that's all he did for 20-30 minutes straight. Climb up. Turn over, slide down.
My kids are getting to that age where I don't have to stand next to them every single second. I can let them climb up by themselves and watch from below. Of course I don't go too far, I wasn't browsing my phone, and I was still watching them constantly, but I'm no longer an inch away.
I missed this phase with my daughter. When she just started to walk confidently, I was at home sick. Morning sick. I didn't take her to the playground, we didn't go outside to play. She just ran after her daddy when he wasn't working. That was a sad time for both her and me.
Somehow the timelines of the last four years have alternated during this time of year. In 2017, I was sick. In 2018, we had a four month old. In 2019, I was sick. In 2020, we had a four month old. It's now 2021. Had I followed the trend, I'd be sick again. But I'm not, and I love it. And next year, we won't have a four month old again, and I'm totally fine with that, too.
Instead, I get to soak in my baby boy's last waddles before he confidently takes off around the house, outside, and everywhere.
It's hard being a mom, but I love it.
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