Bubba has been crawling for almost a month now. A milestone of all milestones. With a few reckless, flailing arm and knee movements, my household was propelled into one of two mobile, energy draining sons. No longer can I set one down and be guaranteed that I will find him in the same vicinity when I return from the laundry, the bathroom, or wherever I escape to. A mixture of sadness and pride fills my heart. Sadness, that the days of babyhood will soon be over and I will have another full blown toddler careening through the household, banging his head on various exposed corners and table edges. Pride in his ability to master a skill, his glee in finally being able to go after anything his heart desires, or at least anything he wishes to mouth.
All of these milestones my two sons reach. I feel they come and go faster than reckless tides, that come in and out of the ocean and wash away memories with the newer ones. Where once I always had a charged video camera within arms reach for Chops's victories, now I have none. I had every intention of capturing that steep learning curve of Bubba's new crawling career. How, at first, he just swam on the carpet, his chubby arms working front and back, like one of those killer whales that the trainer motions up to the side of the pool, head and tail in a perfect arch. From swimming to the constant rocking, on hands and knees, punctuated by cries of frustration for the toys just out of reach, of his older brother, teasing him, just out of reach. Then the baby yoga antics of last week. The downward dog, where Bubba's body made the perfect V: his hands planted firmly under his shoulders, knees straight and off the ground, only his tiptoes grazing the carpet.
First it was a feeble one, two, three baby crawls before he reached the elusive toy and collapsed back onto his stomach to investigate his find. Another milestone, also within this same week, was pulling himself up to sitting by himself. Which usually ended up with Bubba so excited and impressed with himself that he would fall straight back and smack his head on whatever was behind him...carpet, chair legs, Chops's dump trucks. The shrieks, the quick cuddle from mama, and he went right back to doing it again.
Last week Chops had his own major milestone. He suddenly decided he didn't need to sleep in the crib anymore and graduated to his monstrous race car bed that takes up half of his room. We've had both beds set up in his room since Bubba was born 10 months ago, convinced then that Chops was a big boy and ready to plan great escapes from behind the bars of his crib. He never quite escaped and the overflow of toys from his room seeped into our living room. But NOW, he is such the man cuddled in his hot wheels comforter, surrounded by his five blankies, his bucket of cars and a litter of books around the perimeter of his mattress. And he did it all on his own...one day actually staying in his race car bed during naptime instead of playing 'sneak up on Mommy when I'm supposed to be sleeping.'
Milestones. My video camera battery has been dead for months and I'm missing it all. The baby book collects dust on my shelf. I know Bubba is the last baby, yet I don't clutch to his babyhood as one would normally presume. I spend a lot of time living for the future, when the boys are finally out of diapers and we can use all that money we are saving for family camping trips, sports leagues, trips to amusement parks and baseball games. Meanwhile, the boys transform before my eyes. Each day, each moment, is some milestone. I woke up one day and realized Chops had gone from a babbling toddler, to a little boy that was actually stringing words together as on a carefully beaded pearl necklace. First, slowly and gingerly, but now, actually sounding like a real boy. What was once whines and finger points are now "Git white milk now, please..." I want to tie a recorder around his neck and record it for posterity.
It is a household of milestones occurring everyday. Bubba's first time wolfing down a chicken nugget. I foresee many hours of the boys begging for McDonald's in the future. Chops's first lefty pitch. Do we have a future major leaguer on our hands? Yet I get caught up in dreams of the future, where things will surely be easier than changing diapers and trying to reason with a tantrum-throwing two year old. Instead of marveling in the tidbits of everyday, I'm drowning in overflowing laundry baskets and kitchens always drained of food.
I gather up these most recent milestones and sit quietly with them in my mind. Soon there will be first words and first steps for Bubba. Soon there will be first days of school and first back-talking for Chops. In the now, the milestone is this: everyone is perfect and healthy. Everyone is developing at their perfect pace. And the love in my house is surely enough to crowd out the dropped dog hairs, overflowing diaper pails, and empty pantry.
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