Since the boys were born, I’ve looked forward to the day when they would say goodbye to the newborn stage, when they would interact more with us, when they would grab a toy or hold their own bottle or lift up their arms in a precious request to be held.

The last few weeks, two things have been on my radar that I knew they “should” start doing soon: (1) rolling over and (2) laughing.  I have been unapologetically obsessed with getting them to laugh.  I cannot wait to hear the sweet sounds of baby laughter filling our home.  I tickle.  I coo.  I make faces.  They smile and grin and bat their eyelashes at me.  They love mama . . . but apparently, they do not think I’m funny. 

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While I’ve been pulling out all the stops to get a giggle from either one of them, rolling just hasn’t been a big deal to me.  There have been zero signs they were even interested in thinking about trying to roll.  My sweet little boys just didn’t care to be anywhere that mama or papa had not put them.  Frankly, this has been a-okay with me.  They’re my tiny little preemies, and I generally am more than happy to be the one to meet all their needs: to feed them, move them, bathe them, put them in bed, and snuggle them.  They are 100% reliant on Mr. Blue and me for everything.  Their worlds begin and end with us.  Further, I’m cool with them not being too mobile too early because then I’ll have two little munchkins to chase around the house, the grocery store, and anywhere else they can toddle away from me.  (Is it terrible that this has become my primary “lose the baby weight” plan??)

Last weekend, we went to take very belated 3-month 4-month pictures, and out of nowhere, with no warning signs to prepare a mommy’s heart, Finn rolled from his tummy to his back. It was so cute and naturally, I was excited, but I was pretty sure it was fluke and was assisted along the way by the cushions at the studio.  He had disjointedly rolled to his side and then managed to flip the rest of the way to his back while the photographer clicked away, but it certainly didn’t look like something he had intended to do or was aware of how to make happen again.  Then we came home, and this happened:

And then it happened again.  And again.  And again the next day. Super Finn was officially a roller.  I was proud that my little guy had reached a new stage of development, but I was surprised by a pang of sadness that washed over me.  It’s just a tiny roll of the body, and something we all do countless times without a thought.  But, it was the first time he didn’t need me.  I didn’t do anything to help him; he decided he didn’t want to be on his tummy, so he moved.  All I could do was watch, cheer him on, and clap and praise when he had achieved what he set out to do.

I suddenly missed my tiny little 4-pounder that couldn’t even regulate his body temp, much less move to a whole new position.  The ability to roll may be a small accomplishment in the big picture, but it signifies the beginning of independence, the end of the newborn days, and saying goodbye to being the absolute center of their little worlds.  I can’t help but feel like time is flying by a little too fast.  I want to slow everything down and memorize the way they feel while they can still be snuggled entirely in my arms, the way they grin when I walk into their room first thing in the morning, the way their tiny hands close around my finger.  I melodramatically find myself thinking that in no time at all they’ll be going to college and not need me for anything other than a tuition check.  Yes, this is actually how I think.  I’m such a drama queen.

At the end of the day, though, they still need me even when they are accomplishing tasks on their own.  They need me to be their #1 cheerleader.  They need me to show them the way to do a difficult task.  Then, they need me to let them try on their own, instead of jumping in to help.  They need me to let them fail so eventually they can succeed.  Most of all, I think they need me to just keep loving them and give them the confidence to be brave and independent boys I want them to grow to be.  This is a role I haven’t had to play yet as a mother, but I know if I’m doing my job, I will increasingly just be the one in the background providing a foundation for them to explore and grow. 

So, have fun exploring your world, Big Finn (and you, too, Captain E), but at the end of the day, don’t forget to snuggle with your mama.  You may not always need her, but I promise she will always need you.

Did any of your LO’s milestones leave you with mixed emotions?