As a parent, there are moments when my toddler reaches out with a simple request, “Can you pick me up, please?” Other times, it’s a less polite demand, “Carry me!” accompanied by an abrupt halt in his steps that nearly trips me up. There are even instances when he silently lifts his arms toward me, and occasionally, it’s me who initiates the carry. I might ask if his legs are tired or simply scoop him up, nestling his warm little body against mine, his legs resting on my sides, and his head comfortably on my shoulder.
His name is Oliver, and he is 3 and a half years old. I carry him around constantly.
People often suggest that I should let him walk. I can feel their eyes on us, wondering if he’s too big to be carried or if I should invest in a stroller. But for many reasons, I prefer not to use a stroller, and I cherish the moments I have carrying Oliver. Just recently, during our family vacation, I carried him two blocks from Independence Hall to our car and through half of a dinosaur museum. While fatigue is sometimes a factor, it’s mainly because I enjoy it.
My arms are still strong enough to support his warm weight. He seeks out those extra cuddles with me, especially in new environments. For now, he’s still my little one, a wonderfully affectionate 3-year-old. Soon, he’ll be a curious 4, then a speedy 5. Like his older brother, Ethan, who is now 5, he will stop requesting to be carried. He won’t need me for this simple act of motherhood much longer. So, I embrace these moments while I can, knowing that before I know it, he’ll be grown.
Even my partner, David, thinks I should let Oliver walk. He notices when I shift him from my front to my side, understanding that my 30-pound toddler is becoming heavier. But instead of pushing him to walk, David often takes Oliver from me, cradling him in his arms, breathing in our youngest’s sweet scent. When David grows tired, Oliver will hop onto his shoulders. He, too, treasures these cuddly moments because he knows they won’t last forever.
David has seen our oldest son, Ethan, transform from a cuddly baby to a rambunctious toddler and now a sprinter. I cherish the fleeting moments when he holds my hand. Our middle child, Max, took longer to run off on his own but eventually did, and while he still enjoys holding hands, he has outgrown the desire for being carried.
I miss the days when Max could rest his little head on my shoulder. Now at 5 years old, he is too tall for me to carry comfortably. Instead, I give him piggyback rides or wrap him on my back for longer outings. He still enjoys the warmth of being wrapped, reminiscent of the calmness of babyhood, and I love that he associates it with comfort.
Oliver, however, delights in being carried. He pleads with Ethan for piggyback rides, and Ethan happily obliges, showcasing his strength. Each morning, I scoop Oliver from his room, placing him on the couch to watch his favorite show. I carry him to get dressed and back out to find his shoes. Each opportunity to lift him is a chance to breathe in that familiar, warm scent of his neck and feel his soft hair brush my face. Even at the bathroom, although he’s mostly independent, I still carry him in, ensuring he feels secure.
When Oliver cries, my instinct is to pick him up. You have to hold your last baby close when they’re upset, feeling their warm tears against your neck as you comfort him.
The day will inevitably come when Oliver no longer wants to be carried. He will outgrow my arms, no longer needing to be lifted through the aquarium to see the fish or carried because his legs are tired after a museum visit. He will prefer to race ahead with his brothers, exploring the world around him. Although he might still hold my hand for a little while longer, I know that the physical closeness of carrying him will be a cherished memory.
In the end, all my children will grow, but if I can still carry them, I will. Time is fleeting, an unyielding adversary of parenthood. They say blink, and they’re grown. I pick up my little Oliver and keep my eyes wide open, cherishing every moment.
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Summary:
In this heartfelt reflection, a mother shares her experiences of carrying her toddler, Oliver, emphasizing the emotional connection and precious moments they share. Despite societal pressures to let him walk, she cherishes every opportunity to hold him close, knowing that these fleeting moments will soon come to an end. The article captures the bittersweet nature of parenthood, where time moves quickly, and the warmth of their little ones will soon be replaced by independence.