Sob! Slobber! Weep! Sob! (Another one of those mushy posts)

Asa mother, there are times I look at my children and marval at the wonder that is them.
Those times are few and far between, normally buried under the fighting, screaming, and bizarre antics of my offsrping, but the moments are there.
And occassionally, they shine brighter than the sun.
Boo will leave his academic home of the last year and enter the public school system after Friday. He is so excited to be a pee-skooler (his term) that he can hardly see anthing else.
I, meanwhile, can see nothing but my chubby cheeked baby morphing into a lean, no rear ended little boy hell bent on world domination and checking out women's butts. (Walk him past Victoria's Secret and watch his face to see what I mean. I have a Little Lech!)
Bug will be in kindergarten, which is enough of a stretch of my imagination that I can't picture it. All I can see if the squishy baby I brought home from the hospital and didn't know what to do with. (He's no longer squishy and I still don't know what to do with him.)
Punk is getting ready to have her own room, her own big girl bed, her own little portion of the world. And I'm watching my baby diva morph into a little girl with enough attitude to fell a small country.
Some days, they pile on me in a chair like a bunch of wriggly, tooting puppies, each trying to talk over the others, each vying for their favorite spot. As I cringe from misplaced elbows, knees, and heads, I remember what it felt like when I was their entire world, when they swam within my womb and knew nothing but me. (And I thank the gods I was never pregnant with triplets!)
But I am not longer the sun they orbit around. They are setting off into their own worlds, baby steps, yes, but steps that will eventually lead them away from me and into a life of their own making. Each step takes them closer to who they will and farther from the babies I once held.
Each step takes them farther from my arms but deeper into my heart.
And, while I fight the urge to call them back, to hold them back for another second, to feel my arms wrap around them, I know that motherhood also means letting go, one fingernail at a time.