sentimental feelings (emphasis on mental)

So here's the truth: I don't want my kids to grow up.

I planned on keeping jT in his crib until he was 8, but then one night I checked on him, and realized that he practically had to fold himself in half, or hang out of the crib to really fit. So at the beginning of the year, we moved him into a bed.

I hadn't planned on potty training him...ever. (He has a certain poop problem that I won't go into details about, but let's just say--He holds it in, all week.) I was convinced there was no way I'd ever get him in underwear. It didn't stop me from talking about it to him and pointing out other kids that used the "big potty". And then last weekend, after seeing one of his friends wearing underwear and using the potty, he decided it was high time for him to, as well. (Well, he still holds his poop in, but at least he does his other business in there now.)

I remember thinking he'd never talk in sentences. And I swear one day months and months ago, he woke up and spoke to me, and could have conversations with me--with individual thoughts and all.

I remember so clearly when he was a newborn, and holding him in the glider in his room during all hours of the night. He was the tiniest little thing who fit perfectly snugly into my folded arms. And I would just sit there, gliding, content, holding that sweet little baby. Then a couple months ago when he was sick, and I held him in that same rocker, his body completely enveloped mine. I wanted to cry. Ok, I did shed some tears. Because my first baby no longer resembles a baby in any way.

As much as I love the boy he is, I absolutely miss the baby he was. I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want him to grow up, and in spite of my best efforts he did it anyway.

My heart absolutely breaks.