On not missing a thing

When I became a mother something came over me.

I became obsessed and determined to be there and witness every single one of my children’s “firsts.”

I was there for Gwyn’s first cry, first diaper change, first time getting dressed. First bath, first burp,  first smile. First giggle. First belly laugh. First bottle.  First time rolling over. First crawl. First bite of real food. First time standing up. First word. First step. First time walking. First fever. First vomit.

First everything.

I didn’t want to miss a single thing and couldn’t bear the thought of missing something.

In fact, the first time we left Gwyn over night, I almost called it all off. Like, as soon as The Hubby told me about the surprise anniversary trip he had planned, I think I cried. It took some pretty strong convincing on The Hubby’s behalf to pry me away. I, as expected, cried when we left, but I did enjoy our time away, even if it was for only one night.

I STILL want to be there for all of the firsts, but am realizing as my children get older that that may not always be possible.

A while ago I went away for the weekend for a friend’s bachelorette party, and while I was gone The Hubby not only transitioned our “baby” from a crib to a toddler bed (I am referring to Gwyn, here) but he ALSO potty trained her. By himself. He and the kids.

And you know what  my immediate reaction was when he told me this on the phone?

It wasn’t what you might expect.

I cried!

Okay, maybe you were expecting that. I see a pattern here.

It was because I wasn’t there. And I felt like a child’s mommy should be there to help through the rough times. The “growing up” times.

I threw a bit of a tantrum over this, I suppose one could say.

All The Hubby was doing was trying to make MY life easier. To do what Gwyn was CLEARLY ready for. What I was putting off because I thought it would be hard.

Of course I made The Hubby feel bad and he apologized over and over. And while he was apologizing I found myself thinking “when I get home, my baby will be a little girl.” These were the last things keeping her a “baby.”

When we hung up the phone, I sat in the hallway of the hotel for a little bit realizing what I had just done. I couldn’t stand the thought of missing out on something that I not only didn’t welcome the help, I got angry about it. This was Gwyn’s father trying to do something nice for us all and I was nothing but Mrs. Pouty Pants.

So I called him back and apologized. Apologized and thanked him for all the hard work he was doing.  But I did make him promise to send me tons of pictures, that of which he did wonderfully.

When I came home Gwyn was sleeping in her big girl bed and never got out once. While she wasn’t completely accident-free, she was no longer in diapers, not even at night.

And you know what?

It was all SO nice! Incredibly nice.

What I have realized from all of this is that as a mom I don’t want to miss anything because they only do these things once. And like we all realize when we become parents this all goes by SO quickly.

But, I also realized that I am NOT going to be there for every little thing. And it’s okay.

Gwyn is in preschool now and it’s like prying teeth to get her to tell me ALL about her day. I don’t want to be a complete helicopter parent, so I am trying real hard not to volunteer to be another teacher in her classroom. To let her have space. Her own time.

To grow up.



  1. […] realized two things in November. The first one is more of a reflective moment I had about missing important milestones and moments in the lives of our children, and the other was that my children hate my singing.  […]

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