Check.
Swimming lessons, day camps and the last round of overnight stays at grandma’s house completed?
Check.
Counting down the days (and minutes) until it’s time to drop the little darlings off for the first day of school so that Mama can relax with a cuppa joe in an environment sans whining, tattling and the words “I’m bored” and “Yippee, it’s a ‘Hannah Montana’ marathon!”
Oh, you betcha.
Welcome to the Dog Days of Summer. In our house, that means: bedtime battles practically every night because it’s still light outside and all of the other kids on our block get to stay up way later than my kids, I guess; a constant argument about why we’re not going to buy $3 popsicles from the ice cream truck that visits our neighborhood two or three times a day; and three beautiful children who are extremely tired of each other, and, perhaps even more tired of me.
Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had a fantastic summer.
And aside from that one unfortunate week when everybody in our household came down with pink eye – which, thankfully, wasn’t the same week as my high school reunion – I think it’s been the best summer yet.
It was the first summer in a decade that I wasn’t pregnant, nursing, nursing and pregnant, changing diapers, dealing with temper tantrums, and scheduling life around naptimes.
And it was a summer of big change. Over the past few months, I’ve reluctantly, mostly come to terms with the fact that our “baby” years are over.
Oh sure, there are still moments when our kids are perfectly content snuggling up on our laps, getting carried around or acting like babies.
But five-point harness car seats have been replaced with booster seats.
Cartoon underwear is now worn only under protest, when all of the boxer briefs and other big kid underwear are in the laundry bin.
And nobody in our household wants to use a sippy cup, even though, let’s face it, life was way easier when we didn’t have to mop up milk and juice on an almost daily basis.
My husband and I are now the proud parents of a preschooler, a kindergartner and a fourth-grader.
The upside to that is our children are finally old enough to play together (somewhat successfully), enjoy each others’ company (up to a point), and do many of the things that make being a kid fun, such as riding bikes, swimming and spending time outdoors.
And, as parents, we’re finally starting to relax a little, too. A few months ago, for the first time ever, my husband and I hired a baby sitter – a real one, who wasn’t related to us or anything – and went out on a date. And, bonus, we had a fun time.
I’ll admit that we’re still fairly overprotective of our kids compared to many parents. But we’re learning to not treat them like babies, mainly because they won’t let us. They’re ready to ride through life without training wheels.
Saying goodbye to all things baby hasn’t been easy.
Every once in a while, I stumble across a pair of infant socks or a baby bottle that didn’t make it into the Goodwill box. And around the Fourth of July, while rounding up items for a friend’s charity yard sale, I finally got rid of my three favorite maternity outfits that I had stowed away in my closet “just in case.”
At this point, we have no plans to expand our family; if, through some miracle, that happens, I comforted myself by thinking I’d want an updated look anyway.
A friend of mine recently mentioned how emotional it was for her to get rid of the last plastic, reusable kid plate in her house.
We’re not quite there: Clifford the Big Red Dog and Dora the Explorer will be dining with us for a while because they’re still in great shape and my husband and I are reluctant to let kids use breakable dishes until they’re either in college or can prove that they won’t get severely cut, need surgery and have to undergo several months of physical therapy like their older cousin did after falling out of a chair with a porcelain teacup in her hand.
But I understand the emotional attachment to baby items that she’s talking about.
The cradle bassinette that all three of our kids used is still in our bonus room. These days, it serves as a crib, a race car and sometimes a jail for their dolls and stuffed animals.
It’s sturdy and they’re careful with it, so I’m not worried that they’ll damage it.
But after months of my husband asking “Why do we have that thing?” I still haven’t brought myself to pack it away or donate it to charity.
I’m sure we’ll need to move it some day to make room for a pool table or home theater system.
But not yet.
Please, not yet.
Former Olympian reporter Lisa Pemberton is busier than ever with her three children. She can be reached at lisapemberton@rocketmail.com.
