If Only for One More Day

Today I was cleaning the house and doing what every mom eventually has to do—decluttering.

As I worked my way from room to room, I came to my youngest son's closet.

I stood there for much longer than I planned.

Batman. Spider-Man. The Hulk. Green Lantern. Optimus Prime. Super Why. A firefighter. An airplane costume. Masks, capes, and little muscle suits that once fit my tiny boy perfectly.

In an instant, I wasn't cleaning anymore. I was back in those days when imagination ruled our house.

It's funny how something as simple as a row of costumes can unlock a thousand memories.

As I looked around the house today, I realized just how much we've outgrown. There are no more cribs, highchairs, baby swings, Pack 'n Plays, sippy cups, baby gates, potty chairs, or bins of baby toys taking up space. The bottles and bibs are long gone, and our shelves are no longer filled with rattles.

My youngest is now 6 years old, and we've reached the stage where the baby years are officially behind us.

I kept so many things over the years because I assumed each child would eventually go through the same phases. I thought every one of the boys would spend years dressing up as superheroes and pretending to save the world. But motherhood has taught me that every child writes their own story.

My firstborn absolutely loved dressing up. Every day was a surprise. I never knew if Batman, Spider-Man, The Hulk, Super Why, Optimus Prime, or Green Lantern would be joining us for breakfast. Sometimes he couldn't choose, so he'd wear multiple costumes at once. We could be making crafts at the kitchen table, and he'd be sitting there covered in paint while wearing a full superhero suit.

He wasn't pretending—he truly believed he was saving the world.

My youngest boy loves dressing up too, but in his own way. Give him a Top Gun flight suit or a police officer uniform, and he's perfectly happy.

Superheroes never really became his thing.

It's amazing how children raised in the same home can be so wonderfully different.

As I stood in that closet today, I couldn't bring myself to take those costumes down.

Because I don't just see old fabric and plastic masks.

I see a little boy racing through the house with a cape flying behind him, announcing that he had another mission to complete before dinner.

That little boy is 14 now. Fourteen. How did that happen so fast?

If I could have just one more ordinary day with that tiny superhero running through my house, I would take it without hesitation.

I guess that's why I love writing these blogs.

They allow me to revisit the little moments that slipped by too quickly. They preserve memories that I hope I never lose, even as the years keep moving forward.

So for now, those costumes can stay hanging in that closet.

They're no longer being worn, but they're still holding onto a little piece of childhood that this mama's heart isn't quite ready to let go of.