I Have A Three - Year Old
I am clutching onto three with all my might, the same way that
one clings to a magical holiday, wanting the time to last just a bit longer,
relishing in the joy, soaking up the immense happiness the time brings. I am not afraid of the unknown, simply
longing to preserve this age, this remarkable time a bit longer.
Three has been delightful in everyway, much the way I have
felt about two and one and her precious infancy. We sailed through the milestones that leave most parents,
including myself, frenzied.
Feeding was natural from the moment she arrived. Emerging with a sucking motion on those
newly found lips, she immediately nursed with vigor, drank feverishly and was
an instantaneous professional. She
filled her diapers with ease, smiled an electric grin that filled my heart with
such a warmth, I nearly burst with love. She laughed and glided through her
days with a giddy ease, as she toddled around with a confidence that was
contagious. It is not to say she
was perfect, I never expected that of either of my children, she was simply
just herself.
She spent the first nine months of her life sleeping in an
automated swing, squished inside while the motor hummed and the legs of that
swing creaked with revolt. I
worried, I fretted and I consulted the Dr. Looking back now, I laugh at my
worry. There was nothing wrong
with her, my daughter just preferred to rest in the coziness of her swing and
who was I to argue with a sleeping baby?
To this day, she isn’t a champion sleeper and longs to be resting in the
warm embrace of my arms, holding my hand or nestled in my hair. I don’t blame her; I too, appreciate a
warm body next to me as I drift off to sleep. But what she lacks in the way of slumber, she makes up for
in humor, happiness and the ability to mesh well with others. At just three, she has an empathetic
heart, a magnetic smile and the keen ability to transition well, rolling into
new situations with poise and utter grace. I remind myself to slow down and learn from her.
Though she is ready and eager to embrace four, with those
tiny fingers, still chubby and dimpled at the knuckles, I love that she is
still small. She seemed to miss
the terrible two’s, the picky eater stage, the days when I wish she would
mature so we could escape difficult moments, tantrums, and the toilet training
conundrums.
Each age and stage has brought tremendous joy to my life
and each passing year, though happy for her coming of age and mastering of the
milestones children are expected achieve, a melancholy sets in. These days with her as my little one,
the younger of my two precious children are fleeting. Her birthdays represent the passing of time; the final stage
of my children being tiny, of having babies, of nursing, or wrapping little,
innocent bodies in my embrace. I
knew this time would pass quickly, I was warned, I was told, I was witness to
each and every moment, but I will so miss my daughter and my children being
small. Sometimes, as the day comes
to a close, I look at them, as if an outside observer, smile with deep
recognition of the babies they were and the children they are becoming. I whisper a silent, “I will miss you
being small,” kiss their foreheads and ache with happiness for them.
Four will suit my daughter beautifully, but I wish to sit
with three just a bit longer.
Lingering with these moments, slowly breathing them in, absorbing her
three – year – old self for as long as I possibly can.
Tessa on a Fjord tour in Norway.
Tessa enjoying a glacier.
A little time with dad in Bergen!
Beautiful rainbow on a fjord cruise!
