Sometimes, I'm the baby.

My children... They're little. They're not tiny. They're not babies. But they're not big.

Sometimes, though, they seem so big.

With fall rolling around, we have so many milestones coming up. I'll soon have a kindergartener, and also a 4 year-old, a 6 year-old, and a 2.5 year-old.

We have lived in our apartment for over a year, making it the longest home my daughter has ever had.

I've been listening to my children talk and play a lot more lately. I've slowed myself down and just observed. They're all so intelligent and so hilarious. They're polite and kind. They're loving. They're naughty. They're kids.

Today, I laid in my bed watching the younger two play. For no reason that I could immediately pinpoint, I was suddenly in tears. 

They fell and they fell, leaving river trails down my face onto my pillow.

The years have been so hard. They've been insanely exhausting. They've been incredibly overwhelming and exceedingly trying. They've been a whirlwind that seemed to last forever in some moments.

But they passed so quickly at the same time.

My first baby, the one who turned my world upside down in great ways and made me momma... His years at home with me during the week day are done. They have been for almost two years of course, but somehow knowing he's going from daycare to school... It is the end of his baby, toddler, and preschool days. He's a "big kid," now. I don't know how he got so big so fast. 

I called him into my room to hug me. He asked why, and all I could say is "because I love you and want to hold you." He obliged but looked at me like he thought I was crazy.

I just want to hold him on my lap and rock him a while.

My heart can't handle it.

The second child, the fierce one... He's so little but so big. He will be four in days. He is still pint-sized, which makes him seem younger sometimes. But I watch him play, color, write, and listen to him talk, and it's clear he's not a baby, and he's not a toddler anymore. All of his baby and toddler pudge and rolls are gone. Soon he likely won't wear diapers to bed anymore. He could start school next year.

My heart can't handle it.

Then there's the youngest. She is so self-sufficient. She spins and dances and asks me to watch her and I can't stop watching her golden curls twirl around her face as she giggles incessantly. I watch her cuddle her kitty (our cat) in the morning and take care of her babies. When I listen, I hear her teaching them things. She loves to draw circles and she can draw her own bath, too. She wands to choose her own outfits. But, thankfully for my heart, she still is part baby, though mostly toddler. She still asks me to hold or carry her sometimes. I don't always want to, but sometimes I need to, because all too soon she won't want me to. Her baby days are numbered and her toddler days are flying by.

My heart can't handle it.

So, I become overwhelmed with tears. I gather them all on the couch to watch a movie so they don't notice the tears still trickling.

Their little days are numbered. This makes me the baby now.