I struggle with change and it’s really no secret.
I know change can be good- healthy even, but sometimes
(especially when my children are involved) it really makes me sad.
Last September Lottie was eating an apple on
the couch when she stood up and announced:
“Guys, I just lost my tooth”.
We all screamed and made a big deal about it.
I took this tiny little white tooth and put it in a little bag and wrote on it:
“Lottie’s first lost tooth”.
Then I felt teary because I realized that her first lost
tooth was my LAST first lost tooth as a mother.
shouted out to all of us somewhere in Maryland
that she had again lost another tooth.
Well, there goes her second tooth, and my first last second lost tooth-
or something like that.
Or when Nicholas finally cut his hair that he
had been keeping long for about a year.
I knew his hair was getting too long and he needed a cut
(it often drooped in front of his eyes),
but he really liked it, and it became part of his identity.
So we made a deal, he could keep his hair long until his 12th birthday,
then had to cut it.
October 6th-his birthday came around and sure enough
Mr. Nielson chopped his blonde locks while we all watched.
I shed a little tear because…well, because it was change.
And now his “big boy haircut” is a little too big boy for me.
And maybe his long haircut will be his last long haircut
he’ll ever get.
I’m glad in God’s genius plan for us on earth
we women can become grandmothers
after all our babies have left the home.
Because then we get plenty more “firsts”.