Jack turned three over the weekend. Happy and sad about that. I am beginning to see a light at the end of a very deep, dark, 7 years long, baby tunnel that I've been trying to navigate. The fog is lifting- and even though I am a much lighter sleeper than I used to be, at least I am sleeping through most nights. No bottles. No pacifiers. Not even a diaper bag anymore. All of my kids can feed themselves, drink from a cup, turn on the television, and sit through Sacrament Meeting without "snacks".
I even golfed with Aaron last weekend for the first time in a LONG TIME. No belly to get in the way. No baby to hurry home to. No nap schedule to plan around. It was freedom with a 3 wood and a happy husband for 18 holes. And it was good times.
But, in all honesty, that light at the end of the tunnel is a little bit sad for me. Because it means no more snuggly, late night feedings. It means I pack away those tiny onesies and soft baby quilts forever. It means babyhood- although demanding, it's also magical- and it's over for this Mom.
Let's talk about golf again ... while the tears dry. Should I take lessons?
Perspective- Jack is only three. And three is still little, and cute, and fun, and innocent. I love to watch him try to keep up with his brothers. I love to watch him try to help his dad fix the bathroom sink. I love it when he sits on my lap, and plays with my (short) hair, and tells me "I wuv your hair". He is tough, but he is tender. He is a monster, and then he is a sweetheart. He loves a good wrench, and a good, tasty watermelon. And I want to memorize every part of every day of his three year old life. Because I know that in twenty years, or two, I will want to relive these days.
Because it's good to be three. And it's also good to golf again.