Last Firsts

Yesterday we gave our last first haircut.  I held the baby on my lap and Nancy went at his amazing blond curls with the scissors.  It was awful. 

I kept asking if she was sure she wanted to do that now.  “I love his hair,” I moaned.  “It’s not too long.  Does this really need to happen today?  I’m not ready.  Can’t you wait just one more week?”

With children, firsts are generally a great thing.  With five children, we have had the opportunity to experience many wonderful firsts through the years: first tooth, first Christmas, first birthday, first steps, etc., etc.  But now, with the youngest, and most likely the caboose experiencing all these firsts, they are as melancholy for me as they are exciting. 

Just this past week our baby started walking.   He’s been taking a step here and there for a few months.  But, with so many people willing to carry him everywhere, he wasn’t overly motivated about walking.  Then, all of a sudden he was no longer a crawler.  Literally overnight, he went from scooting around on all fours, to walking. 

Not only that, now he’s Mr. Independent.  Yesterday, I helped him up the stairs, and then, holding his hands, set him down on his feet.  He shook me off like I had the cooties or something and toddled off in search of something fun to do.  Never once did he look back at his daddy, standing there, trying to figure out what just happened. 

With his new skills, all his new independence, and now, with his new hairdo, I’m suddenly wondering why we even call him our baby.  Yesterday he was a little fat baby – POOF! – today he’s a big fat toddler. 

The last of the firsts.  A few months ago we celebrated our last first birthday party.  Yesterday was our last first haircut.  Tomorrow could easily be the last first, “Why?” 

Before we know it, we will celebrate our last first trip to the emergency room, our last first day of kindergarten, our last first swim lessons, our last first day in Jr. High School, our last first driving experience, our last first date, and our last first broken heart.  

But I’m getting way too far ahead of myself.  We still need to experience many of these things for the first time.  Why should I lament the lasts of the firsts before we actually enjoy the firsts of the firsts?  And why am I getting all hung up on life being all about the firsts?  Sure, the first kiss is great; you waited your whole life for it.  But the second kiss, and the third, and thousandth kiss are all just as great.

And so, I’m reminded of, and will try to be more thankful for all the firsts we have already experienced as a family.  And, I will also look forward, with great anticipation, to all the many firsts still ahead of us – and seconds and thirds and fourths and fifths . . .

This entry is a repost from my old blog that is no more.