It was Lincoln's birthday last weekend, and it was a golden, perfect sort of weekend. Evan and I splurged by calling in The Babysitter (who is evilly moving away to attend college this fall, sniff), and went out to eat together. It was lovely. The meal was delicious, and then, as we usually do on our wildly infrequent "date" nights, we gravitated to a bookstore. Then on to the mall to look for toys for an about-to-be-three boy. Of course, all toys were either A.) expensive B.) a dumb character tie-in or C.) ones we already own. We ended up buying nothing that night.
I don't know if it was the adulation of his adoring family and friends on the occasion of his birthday, or some amazing caprice of fate, but Lincoln was absolutely perfect his entire birthday. No balking, or sulking, no hitting... it was a deliciously sweet day all around.
It is very bittersweet, this growing thing. I was reading one of my favorite blogs today, Orangette, and on her post, June 4th, about her baby daughter, I saw this comment somebody had made:
Jen DK: "Molly, she is just adorable, and I love how happy you sound. Speaking as a mom of teens, I can tell you that you will have these moments of pure joy your whole parenting life...but the amount of *flesh* involved will decrease exponentially. Revel in all the skin-to-skin contact with your cherub! That's the part that doesn't last forever."It perfectly described my mixed feelings about my kids growing older. I love learning what kind of people they will be, and watching their quick minds learn more and develop a better sense of humor, but I feel the clock ticking on the "flesh" years. Lincoln has an (admittedly rude) habit of putting both hands on my cheeks and turning my face toward him when I am talking to someone else and he wants my attention. I should do a better job of teaching him not to interrupt, but the feeling of those hands on my cheeks! Rilla slipped her hand in mine over the weekend, as we were walking through a parking lot, and I couldn't believe how small and sweet it was. Usually, to the stern "Hold Hands!" in the parking lot, she grabs her brother's hand, or the strap of my shopping bags, or the cart. It was so sweet to just hold hands.