I was just staring at this picture that I posted on Instagram today…
…and I began to panic.
Isabel just turned two in May. TWO! She is only two, but when I look at this picture, she does not look like a toddler. To me, she looks like a little girl. A shrunken little girl.
Where did my baby go?!
Knowing that Isabel will be our last child makes it even harder to see her grow up and change. Eleanor has always looked like a little girl to me. Even when she was a baby, she didn’t look like a baby. Isabel, on the other hand, was a round mound full of baby fat. Now that she’s thinned out, she’s looking more like a little lady. It really does make me sad.
One day I’m ecstatic over the fact that the girls are potty-trained, then I’m sad the next because they’re that much closer to becoming self-sufficient adults. One moment I’m dying to get them in their own beds in their own rooms, so I can enjoy a good night’s rest without someone rolling on top of me in the middle of the night, or kicking me in the back, and the next I’m lying restless in bed because I miss my babies. One minute I’m ready to pull my hair out because they’re driving me batsh*t crazy, and the next I’m engrossed in a sea of kisses and hugs and the sweet sound of laughter.
As much as I enjoy watching them grow, it breaks my heart all the same. I can never get enough of my girls. They truly are my world.
Motherhood is the most insane emotional roller coaster I’ve ever been on. They should make pills for this.