Growing Up

I walked the baby aisles at Target yesterday, gift registry in hand, looking for that perfect present. You see, my friend is going to have a baby. A baby girl. And I am thrilled.

And sad. And depressed.

Asher left me alone to look at the "boy things" in the next aisle over- the aisle full of baseballs and t-balls and bikes.

I know that aisle. I've been there a lot these past two years.

I've been trying to get to the baby aisle. These past 3.5 years now.

Normally, I'm completely fine with it. Well, at least pretty much.

But, Mother's Day came and with it the realization that my kids are growing up.

There were no little toddlers to climb up on my lap and knock over my breakfast tray when the kids brought me breakfast. There were no diapers to change, no soft chubby baby rolls to wash.

And my Mother heart yearned for another one. Any one. A skinny one, a chubby one, one that looks completely different from all my other ones. Any one.

And when I mentioned it to Josh at our picnic lunch, while the kids were off exploring in the grassy fields, over left-over crusts and squished Capri Suns he said he knew what I meant. He understood.

And so, at the Target Baby Aisle, trying to decide between the pink fluffy bath towel and the soft little shoes, it was too much, much too much for my one Mother Heart.

And I walked away.

And came back.

To the soaps and lotions, because those- those I could buy.

And I picked up some bubble bath, seeing in my mind's eye my six year old twins' laughter, and I left, hope for the future growing like a soft dandelion among the weeds of my sadness.

This is my blog. My name is Megan Abbott.