Growing Pains

My pain, not theirs.  I am having pains watching them grow up.  When they were little I wholeheartedly celebrated every milestone.  Walking? Yes!! Talking? Yes!!! Potty trained?  Oh, heck yeah! Done with little bitty baby clothes?  Donate those suckers.  Outgrew the baby carseat?  Sell it on craigslist.  Outgrew pretty dresses?  Pass them to the neighbor.  All that beautiful artwork you made me with hand-prints on it?  Recycled when they weren't looking.  I am not sentimental.  I loved seeing them get bigger and didn't feel the need to hold onto objects from their babyhood.  It was exciting enough just to watch them grow up.

All of a sudden it isn't as exciting anymore.  I'm turning into one of those women who kept saying to the poor sleep deprived new mothers, "Treasure this, it goes so fast."  I've refrained from saying it in my out loud voice, but my inner voice screeches it.

Today Sam was reading these books:

 

I remember the first set I bought when Ethan was four.  He knew all his letter sounds and letter names so I decided he was ready for the next step.  We drove out to a homeschool supply store, and on the advice of the cashier/homeschooler, we picked up some early reader books, called BOB books.  Ethan sat in the backseat and sounded his way through the first one on the ride home.  Over the next month or so he read all of the dozen little paperbacks that came in the set.  He was well on his way to reading and I was feeling a little less scared by the notion of homeschooling.

A couple years later I sat down with the same books and started to teach Libby to read.  Her process was much different than her brother's, but learn to read she did.

Last year I started teaching Grace to read and I bought a new set of trusty BOB books.  The first set had become hopelessly scattered and lost due to a few years, a move, and life with four children.  The new set was just like the old set, so we started to learn to read again.

This year Sam is five. (Only Ethan started learning to read at four.  He may have been highly motivated or maybe I had more energy then.  It's hard to know for sure.)  We pulled out the BOB books and Sam started reading.  The first story is about a person named Sam.  My Sam was hooked.

Today this happened:

He read the very last book in the blue box of BOB books.  My heart broke a little bit.  I put the last book back in the box with the others.  I can't seem to throw it in my donate box, the one I happily threw the boys' blessing outfits and all their first shoes into.  My emotions are all wrapped up in those books.  I put them back on my shelf, knowing that I no longer need them or have any use for them, but I can't seem to part with them.  Somehow this is the item that breaks my heat to part with.  Maybe it's because I'm finally starting to realize just how big my kids are now.  I spent so much time laboring over these little books with my little children.  So much of our tears and joys were invested in this first step to reading.  These little paperbacks are weighted down with emotions and memories.  My inner screecher is happily yelling, "I told you so! They grow so fast.  You better hold onto these books forever and ever.  Hold onto their childhood!"  I've reached that point.  I'm going to start telling women with new babies, who are sleep deprived and hormonal, "Treasure this, they grow up so fast."