Transitions

Well, I finally did it. I washed the last batch of bottles for my baby and put them neatly away in a box. The dirty bottles have been sitting in my sink for almost two weeks now, and I finally just had to give in and do it. So many times, especially during the winter, I lamented having to wash bottles again, my knuckles cracked and bleeding from all the washing (and the lack of time and motivation to supplement with hand lotion). Now, I just wonder where the last year has gone and wish I needed to wash them again. He's officially graduated to sippy cup land, although more often than not the cups are used merely as an entertainment object - he throws them, Mama picks them up; it must be really exciting for a baby to watch that because he does it over and over again. ;-)  He's crawling too, which means it's only a matter of time before those cute chubby thighs and arms are gone from all the exercise his new-found mobility affords him. I promised myself, after having watched my oldest son grow up so quickly, that I would cherish even the non-glamorous moments with my baby. I know how few of them there are before nature begins the inevitable process of pulling him away and developing the independence that deep down I know he'll need to have.  The love started with just the thought of him, then the wonder of having him growing inside me, the elation of holding him in my arms, and now my heart is full watching him interact with his brother and the world around him. Today, though, I just can't help but wonder whether I've cherished it all enough . . . .