Who's Momma love?

Lately, it has become increasingly difficult to get a picture of little man without the classic super-cheesey smile. I do love that face, but every once in a while...

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I so wish I could have captured a certain look on his face yesterday.

He looked at me with the sweetest and most serious little expression.

Even without a picture, I will never forget that face.

The reason behind the face...? Back story needed.

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When little man was...well...littler, I would ask him: "Who's Momma love?"

His response was always a strong: "Me!"

I loved this. For some reason, over the summer, this dialogue ceased to exist.

Lately, I have really missed it. I've tried to renew our routine, but he just doesn't remember, and wants to really answer my question.

Yesterday, I was just overcome with a giant surge of love for my little man. I really really wanted to ask him: "Who's Momma love?" , but I knew it wouldn't get the response I craved. So instead I held his little hands, looked into his curious eyes, and asked: "You know Mommy loves you, don't you?" He looked back at me so seriously, nodded his head, and said: "Yes, Mommy."

Then he tore off at top speed.

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That two second response gave me all I needed. And I realized that as much as I love our "old" routines, whatever they may be...there is such joy in watching my children grow into their new phases. As much as I have loved hearing that sweet voice chirp out a loud: "Me!", I absolutely cherish the fact that now my son truly understands his Momma loves him. I may only get a split-second of sweet-talk these days, but it's a split-second of sweet-talk with comprehension.

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Moving at times slowly and at other times swiftly through these stages, I can't help but feel bittersweet. Bittersweet, but not melancholy. No, there is no sadness in watching my children grow and mature. I feel blessed, joyful, even overwhelmed and inadequate...but never sad. The steps we take aren't steps away, they are steps toward. Steps toward learning more about each of my children. Steps toward watching them become the person they are meant to be. And for each step we take, we have just that many more memories of the steps already taken. So I don't look behind and long for a step slipping from my view, I look at the step we're on and all the previous ones come easily into focus.

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Some days the path seems rocky, or long, or too hard to follow. Some days it is fun and easy and I can't wait to keep on moving. Regardless, I love the path we're on. I have to believe that one day we'll look back on the path we've taken, and it will make such sense we'll feel silly for ever doubting or wishing any part away.

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Now if I can successfully remind myself of just that fact when the girls are fighting with each other, sassing me, little man is destroying some part of the house, and Steve is still not home from work...I won't frantically search our path for some secret detour.