Blank Slate

(Our diaper changing station is gone.)

After five years and two little boys, I finally disposed of our diaper changing pad this week.  The poor thing was in terrible shape and probably should have been retired a while ago.  It sat on our bathroom counter since right before James was born, and then Rhys came along less than two years later, so I never had to put it up between babies.  I also cleaned out the diaper bag and put it into the donation pile, because we don’t need it any longer, either.

And as thrilling as it is to be a diaper-free household, there’s still a tiny bit of wistfulness tugging at my heartstrings.  Several of my friends had babies this fall, and I love hearing about them and getting to snuggle them occasionally, too.  I know without a doubt that my baby days are behind me, and my boys are growing right before my eyes.  This is just one small step in a series of many that will end with them growing into adults.

That’s still a long time from now, and I try to remember to enjoy each day as it comes.  But that’s hard, too, with rushing to get out of the house in the morning, and the boys fighting and wrestling, and driving back and forth, back and forth all day long.

I think this is how it feels to be a parent, with the memories of the past tugging at you while you worry about tomorrow and struggle with today.  It’s normal, and it’s hard, but there are so many wonderful things, too.

I remind myself of that. How wonderful today is.

And now I’ve got that counter space to myself again when I get ready each morning.