You are too big to pick up anymore!

For 10 years I've been hung on and swung on and clung to like a prized possession and god only knows how MANY times I've wished and begged for some breathing room from the wild army of hysterical little critters I made myself; but I never actually thought that day would come!
Tonight I said words I NEVER thought I'd say - "You are too big to pick up anymore!" The second the words left my lips it was like a punch in the guts. My (big) baby boy looked at me and goes "oh but I wanted you to carry me inside"... sorry mate but you are getting too big! 
It's that old cliche you hear all the time from people who have been there before you "don't wish it away it goes to quick in the end" and go it does! What happened in the last 10 years that have lead me to the point that I actually don't have babies anymore?!?!? It seems like yesterday I was holding my first born in my arms after 21 hours of labour!
I'll tell you where my 10 years went, they flashed by me while I was fumbling my way through the preschool years of raising children.
The whirlwind newborn stage where days and nights blend together like a good Ombre, where you are trying to teach your baby the difference between night and day but you can't quite figure it out yourself.  Where your conversations mostly involve talking about what coloured poo your childs doing and how often they are spitting up. I worried about 'creating bad habits' for myself almost continually fearing that my baby would one day be some grown co-sleeping, dummy sucking, needy human that was incapable of independence (how wrong I was about that, don't worry about forming 'bad habits' they won't last).  
Then there was that stage that my social life took a back seat to my children's nap times, at one stage I had a 14 month only sleeping morning and afternoon, a newborn sleeping well as newborns sleep and a 3 year old who I still had to get to kindy, I spent most of my time feeling guilty that I was constantly waking someone up so I could do something for someone else! 
Then there was the mess, and I'm not talking about the few piles of kids stuff found scattered around the house I'm talking about the sort of mess only a toddler can make! I have, in the last 10 years cleaned up 2 tubs of margarine that were smeared all over the kitchen floor as well as 2 children! I cleaned up a dozen eggs that a child kindly removed from the fridge onto the kitchen floor... one at a time. 2kg of rolled oats made their way from my pantry to the lounge and everywhere in between in the .6 secs that my back was turned. I have called carpet cleaners for red 'T's drawn in red vivid on the carpet of every room in the house. I've wiped poo off places that poo should not be including an entire child and it's bedroom after it attempted to change it's own nappy. I have shoved COUNTLESS wet wipes and tissues back it's their respective containers and the sand that has been trodden through my house would rival the Sahara dessert. Then there is the food, I should have started my own city mission!
And the sickness, my good little army and their good little immune systems fighting everything in it's sight and getting strong! Whilst this happened though I had to deal with the sickness, the snot, the coughing, the fevers and oh my lord... the vomit! I remember one time my mother caught Roto virus from us 2 weeks after it's had destroyed our family, apparently it can live for weeks on a hard surface (clearly needed to fire the cleaner she was obviously shit) Oh the vomit! the worse time involved 5 of us all vomiting on the same day, I ended up driving myself to A & E near on midnight in tears as I was so ill and dehydrated, the poor nurse that treated me was probably wondering if the zombie apocalypse was occurring, I looked awful! I've cleaned up bumps and bruises, wiped tears and given hugs. I have used more plasters unnecessarily just to stop them crying than you would find in an A&E on a saturday night. Then there were teeth, 60 of them, I won't say anymore on that!
BUT, then there were the times that my baby smiled at me for the first time, their first laugh, their first kiss. The day that they said mummy for the first time or even more important 'I love you!" I've spent 10 year guiding and watching as they learnt to crawl and walk and climb, then to ride bikes. I've cried the first time they took to the stage to preform, the day the first went to kindy, school sleepovers; not from sadness but from pride so intense it leaked out of my eyes. I've had beautiful cards on mothers days saying I'm the best mum ever because I play soccer with them (since when??????) and laughed when they have told people my job is to 'do washing' (I should be fired I'm not the best at that job!) I've watched them achieve goals and feel pride and I've watched them strive to do more. I've been woken in the morning by cold feet and kisses as my bed fills with arms and legs. I've drunk more cups of "pretend coffee' than real coffee and watched so many concerts I actually am starting to believe I live on broadway! I have danced and played and laughed, man they make me laugh!
Then there was the time that my baby was too big to be picked up.... and it felt odd! 
I don't like to think that I wished those years away but there were certainly times when they were hard and tiring and absolutely drove me bat shit crazy kinda of years but now they are gone and now my baby is too big to be picked up! 
Now don't get my wrong, although thats a tough realisation it's also exciting. My children are growing and things are changing, their interests are broadening and quite frankly are becoming more interesting for me! They all dress themselves and get themselves in the car. The help with chores and collectively contribute to our family and that is all awesome stuff to watch. They also fight, and fight, and fight but at least they can all wipe their own bums?!
Some one told me once "Parenting never gets any easier, it just gets different" My baby is to big to pic up anymore and my life is getting different! 
Take care & Best wishes
Zalie xxxxxx
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