It makes me a little sad to think about it. Our sweet little boy turned six months old on Sunday. Six Months. Half a year. Jeb is just slightly younger than Katie was when we found out he was going to be joining our family.
Yeah, yeah, most parents get teary eyed when they think about their kids growing up (too fast). But, my sadness is from the realization that each of Jeb’s firsts will be the last that I will experience with my kids. The last first tooth (which happened a month ago). The last first crawl (which he’s determined to do any day now). The last first word (dear Lord, let everything that I’ve heard be true – boys don’t talk as much as girls). The last first night in a big [boy] bed (which will hopefully be a long, long way off). I could go on and on.
When we only had one child, I never fully appreciated “baby fever” that many friends experienced once their child(ren) was beyond a certain age. You know, the desire to have just one more. I was so caught up in just trying to parent that one kid and not make too many mistakes along the way, I didn’t really put much thought into how quickly she was growing up. But, I think I can sort of understand it now. When you know you aren’t having any more children (by choice, medical procedure or whatever), it is a little sad at times to think that when this season ends, you aren’t going to be living through it again as a parent. A grandparent? Maybe (Lord willing, ’cause I’m already making mental notes of all the sugary goodness I’ll be loading Abby’s kids up with right before she takes them home). But most likely never again as a parent.