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 The latest
thing that Gracie has pulled from her bag of toddler tricks is closing her
bedroom door. Anytime she notices that the door is open, she looks around to
make sure that the coast is clear and then runs straight for her room. Then,
her fun really starts. She pushes the door until it almost closes, waits a
second or two, then pulls it back open, sticks her head out, and shouts "hewoooo!"
On Sunday, she decided to up the intensity of the game a notch or two. She
closed the door completely. Of course, the second I heard the door click, I
jumped up, ran across the room, and threw her door open. The little face
looking up at me grinned - "hewooooo Mama!" So, we played a few
rounds of this new game. As she closed the door for the third time, I thought
it would be cute to take a picture of her when the door opened. I went to the
desk to pick up the camera - in the five seconds it took me to grab the
camera and walk back, Gracie decided two things: I had deserted her forever
and she was trapped. Histrionics commenced on her side of the door. I quickly
opened the door again and reassured her that Mommy was always going to be
there for her. In the blink of an eye, her tears dried and the game was on
again. She smiled and closed the door. I was adjusting the zoom lens on the
camera and realized that more than a second had passed and Gracie hadn't
started crying on her side. Mmmmm - does she realize that I'm out here and
that I'm going not going to leave her all alone? I was picturing her waiting
patiently on the other side of the door, telling herself, "it's okay,
Mommy's going to open the door in just a sec - I don't have to cry this time
- I'll just stand here." I waited two or three more seconds and then
slowly opened the door, expecting to see my little angel standing there, her
face awash with relief that her mommy had returned. The little angel was on
the other side of the room, climbing her changing table. Apparently, in three
seconds she'd realized that if Mommy was on the other side of a closed door,
it was free reign to play the monkey game.
Every day, another door starts to close on Gracie's
babyhood. Some days the door closes only partially and then is thrown back
open, at least temporarily. Some days, like the day she decided to quit
nursing, the door slams shut definitively, never to be reopened. Some days
it's little doors that close  (the day she
decided she didn't need help getting in the tub); some days it's huge doors
that close (the day she stopped needing me to feed her - all self-respecting
toddlers feed themselves, you know!). That old adage "whenever a door
closes, somewhere a window opens" is true of Gracie, too. While each day
brings a door  closing on the baby Gracie, a window opens for the
toddler Gracie. While there are so many things that she doesn't do anymore -
there are even more new and exciting things that she does do. She runs to me
now with her arms outstretched and gives me the biggest hug her little arms
can muster. While I miss the baby just learning to crawl, I wouldn't trade
that hug for anything.
Some days I'm sad
for Gracie's baby days, but mostly I enjoy everything about her being a
toddler. I love her interaction with us, the way she discovers something new
everyday, the way her language skills are developing almost by the minute. I
guess the reason melancholy doesn't set in too often is that I’m hopeful that
I’ll get to go through the baby doors one more time. God willing, Steve and I
will add a sibling for Gracie to our family sometime in the next couple of
years. So, there will be another child to nurse, to dress in tiny baby
clothes, to help into the bathtub, to feed with a spoon. When the doors close
on that child's babyhood, they will be closing permanently. They will be
doors that I will never walk through again as a mother - now that might make
me a little more sad, but I'm sure that there will still be plenty of open
windows...........
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