A Click of Metal

Posted on | July 17, 2014 | 3 Comments

As the days creep and whirl past, I watch him grow inch by inch and foot by foot. Sometimes he blows me away with his sheer bigness… his ability to not be in a crib, to not be in diapers, to not be lying on his back kicking his feet and cooing at the flash of colors or the whirr of the fan. Some days it is the opposite and I find myself basking in the reminders of his smallness… the dimples beneath his fingers and the lisp in his words. Some days I am too busy to be either, chasing him here and there, trying to catch up to the little boy who is my heart on legs. Some days I long for those moments of clicking him safely in the car seat, or high chair, or stroller… knowing with the click and pull of straps that he was secure and safe.

When you have a baby, you don’t… you can’t understand what they will do to your heart. You can’t process the tug and pull and ache of being both near and far from them.  I think back to the days when I would rest my hand on my stomach, feeling the pulse of life beneath my palm and truly knowing he was safe and close and watched over. Now, he is his own person, his own rough and tumble boy and there is no bubble wrap strong enough to protect either of us from his rowdy embrace of the world.

I’ve watched him grow so very much in the past five years; from the click of his smallness in a rear-facing car seat to the click of his toddler wriggle into a running stroller. I’ve held him in the safety of my arms through so very much. And with each day that passes, I’m all too aware that my days of holding him in my arms are fading. I’m all too aware that each time I let him down by being human more than the all-powerful mom he believes me to be I am pushing him farther out into the world where others will step in and wrap their thoughts and words and arms around my son. As they should.  Theirs will be the more accessible, the more acceptable arms and smiles as he grows.

So I try to busy myself with steadying the foundation of the home around me, the base of our lives together thus far, building and reinforcing the warmth of this safety net I want him to know is always there. I let him run and play and be the boy he is designed to be, knowing that each day draws him further from this nest I have created for the two of us. But when I pick him up from school each day, my eyes drift up to watch in the rear view mirror as he pulls his seat belt on and clicks it with precision. Gone are the days when he needed me to fasten his pants or shoes or seat belt. Gone are the days when he needed me to lift him up into the car or tuck him safe into his seat.  Yet as it was when he was small, it is still that metallic click of his seat belt that lets me know he is safe… he is home, again.  And I know that from the moment he was born until the moment I take my last breath on this earth, I will always be waiting for the familiar click of metal that says he is safe. No matter where he is.


3 Responses to “A Click of Metal”

  1. Brandy
    July 17th, 2014 @ 11:28 am

    Such a sweet post.

  2. Law Momma
    July 17th, 2014 @ 11:42 am

    Thanks. Feeling a little sappy today. 😉

  3. NinjaPanza
    July 18th, 2014 @ 11:55 am

    Today I did both… watched my big boy click himself into his car seat as I rested my hand on my belly feeling the small one wriggle and push. I love/hate how they grow.

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    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
    Based on a work at http://www.law-momma.com.
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