Don't Blink!

So I cleaned out my laundry room yesterday.
Now I'm sad.
Not sad, actually. Just...ok, we'll stick with sad because I don't care for the words nostalgic and melancholy, although those are probably more accurate descriptions of how I'm feeling...
Ok, I'll get to the point. I found some interesting items tucked away in my laundry room. This is one of the things I found:

That, my friends, is a sweet little size 4 New Balance shoe. That's a size 4 in BABY sizes--not in kid sizes. I also found this:

Though it would never be worth any serious money on Antiques Roadshow, that little piece of art created by Drew and Aubrey is priceless to me. (You'd never know it, though, since I had it tucked away in the laundry room. It's now in my room, though, so no worries.) I helped the kids make that lovely poster during the summer of 2005; those are little 4- and 2-year-old hands....

Now do you understand why I'm feeling a bit sad? (melancholy or nostalgic?)
My little girl turned 9 last weekend, and my little man will be in MIDDLE SCHOOL next fall! Sixth grade ALREADY!

To all of you parents of babies and small children: I'm so jealous.
To all of you parents of grown children: Why didn't you warn us that time suddenly accelerates to the speed of light when you have babies of your own?

Seriously, you (fortunate) parents of wee things: don't blink. You don't want to miss a thing.  Even those of you who haven't had a decent night's rest in two years or who are still buying diapers or who are traumatized by the tantrums your toddler is throwing--don't blink. Stay focused and take it all in and do like Mary (the mom of Jesus) did... ponder and cherish in your heart each one of these moments.   You're going to wake up one morning and realize your babies are wanting to shave their legs (or faces) and buy their own cell phones.

And you parents of grown children: I think I remember some of you trying to tell me that my kids' childhood would sprout wings and fly away, but I was so overwhelmed and exhausted that I didn't really believe you. Or maybe I couldn't hear you over the crying and whining (I've finally grown out of that stage, so I can hear you this time).  I get it now. 

Yes, I know my kids are still kids, but I'm also keenly aware that I have just a few short years left with them before they venture out on their own.... Melancholy...yep, that's it. Nostalgic...that, too.

Here's your warning: I am about to devote the rest of this post to overwhelming you with a barrage of baby pictures. For those of you who are about to click your way to a more uplifting site, please at least scroll down to the last two pictures. Sorry for being such a Debbie Downer (wah, wah). And for my parents, in-laws, Aunt Becky, and Aunt Martha, I think you'll enjoy scrolling down memory lane with me:)

He's "pulling" and not "pushing" her; she still doesn't like to be "pulled" around.

This is real life, folks.

That was the last Christmas photo of them with all of their baby teeth. (sniff, sniff)

Fierce little protectors of Jamestown

Aubrey decided to cut her hair one week before she started kindergarten.  She told her daddy she wanted a hair cut like his.  Fortunately, he looked up before she completed her task--he had a completely bald head at the time.  So, she ended up with a lop-sided mullet instead.  In that picture, it doesn't look as bad as it really was.

If you come to our house and can't find Drew, check by the pond.  He's been baiting his own hooks and taking care of all manner of fishing business since he was "knee high to a grasshopper."

Hair and teeth do grow back.

 I'm almost done now.  Just want to share a few more recent pictures.  If you can't stand it any longer, at least scroll to the last two pictures, please.

This was taken last Easter.  They don't care to hug each other and be all lovey-dovey in pictures anymore since they've gotten older.

This is what life often looks like these days.

That's her fish.  She won't take it off the line.  That's what big brothers are for.

Aubrey turned nine about two weeks ago.  (sniff, sniff)

That's a man-sized fish that my little man caught this past weekend.

Ok.  I'm done now, except for the last two pictures.

This is my gift to you, patient reader.

To you parents of grown children: I give you the opportunity to say that you told me so.

and

To you parents of small children:  I give you perspective...

Sweet little 4-year-old hands become 11-year-old hands almost overnight, and...

Tiny little baby feet become enormous.

Don't blink.