"There you are, Peter!"

Stop. Stop. STOP!! I can't take it anymore. I can't. Time needs to, has to, stop. Stand still. Shush...sssshhhhhhh....just listen. Stop and listen. Do you hear that? Can you feel that? That. That right there. It needs to stop.

I look at Wyatt and kiss his almost 7 month old cheeks. Seven months!! It needs to stop. I kiss his cheeks and my heart grows. It envelopes him. I never could have imagined how much my heart could and would grow having children. The capacity within me to fall in love over and over with each new little boy God has given me is mind boggling. I gaze in wonder at Wyatt's perfectness.

And I remember.

I remember first being pregnant with Camden and how excited Nathan and I were. We waited. Anticipated. Prepared. Worried. And then Camden was born and I was born, as a parent. One who would forevermore put the needs of my little boy before my own. Camden was perfect. Perfect. He didn't needlessly cry. Slept through the night. Kept an impeccable nap schedule. Loved absolutely everyone. Never had stranger or separation anxiety. The love in his baby heart, which emanated from his blue eyes, was the most pure, all-encompassing love. And I knew that I could never have any more children because it wasn't conceivable to love another child as much as I loved Camden. I felt complete for the first time in my life.

That perfect, sweet, charming, cuddly little boy is no longer little. And that needs to stop. right. now.

He can't grow up. I order time to stand still. He's 8. And I think, "Eight is still little. He's still my little boy." But then I consider that 8 is only two years away from 10 and a ten year old is definitely not a little boy. Two years. That's not very far away. That's a blink. Then it's over. Then he'll be a teen and I can't think farther then that because I tear up. I want my children to stay my children. I want them to think I'm the best mom in the world because I make pizza every Friday night. I don't want to notice him start to get embarrassed at kissing scenes in the Jetsons movie we watched tonight because he should still not care. Because he's still little. And not growing. He's NOT....right?

I watched Aidan during Judy Jetsons moony-eyed boy scenes. And he doesn't blink. Five. Five is still little. Little enough to keep giving me kisses during the day. Asking to be read to every night. Five is still little. Aidan, my Aidan. We took so long to bond together. There wasn't much of an emotional connection between us until he was about 14 months old. That's an eternity to mommy hormones. There was nothing. It was blank. I couldn't cuddle with him. Read to him. Understand him. He just was fussy. Unhappy. Not connected.

And then, one day. He just was. It's like he saw me for the first time. He knew me. He claimed me and has never wanted to let go since. Aidan has the most gorgeous, brown eyelashes outlining his huge hazel eyes. He's thin and tall. He loves, loves, loves Wyatt. And transformers. I think he worships Optimus Prime.

And this needs to stop. Because my mommy heart. The one that has grown 30 times it's normal size thanks to the birth of my three boys, cannot take it when and if I'm not their hero anymore. When they realize they know more than me. That I'm not cool. That I'm not the "prettiest mama in the whole world."

They are so precious right now. At their individual ages. I don't want them to grow up. Where's Peter Pan when I need him? I need fairy dust to send my boys to Neverland. Especially Camden. We'll let Wyatt at least learn how to walk first, though he does roll like a pro.

My Camden, my heart, he needs to stay with me. Why does childhood fly by so fast? My heart can't take it. So Stop. please. please let them stay a little longer. To not have to worry. Or be scared. Or hurt. Or learn to be mean. Or be disappointed. Let's stay in a bubble. I'll protect you.

But...but if it can't be stopped. Will I at least know when to say goodbye and embrace their new steps? Will I be allowed to mourn those sacred years of innocence? When nothing mattered but soccer practice, spelling tests, and piano lessons. Oh, and Friday night Movie nights of course. Our world would definitely end without those.

So, although my soul is struggling to accept the loss of innocence while still embracing it, I will whisper stop in their little ears. To stay. To enjoy. And maybe, just maybe, they'll slow down just a little.