On March 15th my baby turned 5. I’ve had this blog post running in the back of my head and heart since then. Truthfully, it’s been hard to process this milestone. I’ve been pushing it off, I don’t want to let go of this baby!
It’s hard to believe that this tiny miraculous thing that took so little space on the couch:
Is now this big miraculous thing who nearly stretches the length of it:
It is a wondrous thing to watch a child grow. To watch a little helpless blob of a baby become a little person. As Peter has grown he has filled up our lives, washed over so many parts of it with a new joy. And now, as a little five year old, his light is starting to spill out into the world. Brightening it, a little halo of golden of light surrounding him.
I love to see the way he fills up the frame: Really, when people tell you your babies will be gone before you know it, that time will whiz by, believe them. It’s all true. I remember listening to some cheesy song when Hazel was just a few weeks old about how I just had to turn around and she’d be a young girl, walking out of the door. I thought to myself, “pasha! I just turn around and she’s hungry again.” But now she’s 11. They day to day of little babies is slow, the days stretch on forever, the nights are endless. It’s grueling at times and so monotonous. But the years go fast and then they’re gone, never coming back. These warnings to cherish babyhood have always sort of bugged me. I love this article here about not having to cease ever moment of them. There are parts of the baby years that just suck. And I don’t want to relive them even for a second. I’m happy that my kids are strong and healthy and growing. That they are spilling out into the world. That they are starting to get it, to make a mark, to have their own lives. This is all part of why I wanted to have children I the first place. I’m thankful that I listened to these warnings enough to really grasp lots of little Kairos moments with my babies. But there’s still this sense of loss, this need to mourn a beautiful era that is only mine now in my memories. And that’s ok. I’m going to sit with this mourning for a little while. I’m going to hope that it propels me to cherish those little Kairos moments more. Because before I know it this next era will only be mine in memories too. Ok, enough philosophy. Onto this amazing little 5 year old. Pardon me for a minute while I document all the awesomeness that is Peter. He is seriously an angel boy, complete with halo. He’s strong. He’s competitive. He’s full of adventure. He can rock climb like Spiderman would. And he’s fun and feisty and is starting to fill in as the family clown, always trying to get the big kids to laugh. Lots of times at not so appropriate times. (We’re working on that.) Peter tells me he loves me even more than I love him probably 7 times a day. He comes and gives me voluntary cuddles. He still wants to kiss me. (swoon).
Peter is totally positive about almost everything. He exudes enthusiasm about the most mundane things. He puts on his little high voice and says things like, “That will be AWESOME!” and “Oh, YES! I love that!” and (out of the blue) “I am HAPPY!”He is also brim with self-confidence. He knows he’s pretty much the bomb. These two faces are so totally Peter (above and below). I had him talking about something while I snapped these photos. He has pretty great facial expressions…and like his dad, he uses his hands when he’s talking. I can’t get enough of this kids hair and his skin and his eyes. The combo just melts me down. I love the little details of our children that we only know as moms. From looking at them so intensely and so often and for so long. Peter is a sensitive little soul. As rambunctious and full of life as he is, he is still has a pretty strong shy streak. Pretty timid at times when he doesn’t know what kind of behavior would be pleasing to people. He’s been like this since he was a baby, always a little worried about getting something wrong. Especially doing something wrong in the presence of people he doesn’t know well. This year he’s coming out of his shell a little, making more friends at school, navigating the bigger world with a tiny slice of boldness. Peter started playing the piano in January. He BEGGED for lessons for months and months (having accompanied the other kids to their lessons for so long). Finally I let him start piano and he is a little obsessed. He has a brain for music I think, at least a total fascination with the language of music and notes. He will sit and study his piano book for long chunks of time, noticing all the symbols and the way the staff is put together. When he was just a little one, about three, he’d come up to me with paper and instead of asking me to draw him cars or airplanes, he’d ask me to write some notes. Some musical notes. Not sure where this will all lead, but it’s pretty intriguing. So interesting how different brains work. Peter is a really incredible little sibling. He lets the big kids boss him around (especially Emmeline). He loves Hazel in a way that she really needs right now. He idolizes Charlie. This guy is full of introspection. He can play by himself, in another universe, for hours. Perfect for the last kid who spends lots of time with just me. Again, the details of his person. That hair. Those lashes. Things I just can’t star at for long enough.
And there’s that little dimple that he gets when he flashes his winning smile. That little crease on the left. The one I’m surprised I haven’t kissed off by now.
Despite all my commands to this boy to “PLEASE STOP GROWING UP!” he is growing up. And as much as that fills me with nostalgia and this deep sense of loss and longing, it fills me with an even deeper sense of joy. It is incredible to watch a life unfold. To see a little person, so clearly full of his own soul, start to spread out into the world. To sprout wings. To fly.
Happy Birthday Peter Pie!