Stale Goldfish

Closing the car seat chapter

Arm in, arm in. Click. Play find the crotch buckle. Then another click, click. And so the car seat routine goes. For eight and a half years I’ve been the model citizen using a 5-point harness to buckle my babies into their car seats. <Insert pat on the back.>

I’ve tried to calculate how many times I’ve actually buckled my kids in and out of their car seats. Times three kids! Then I was overwhelmed by the math (this is summer vacation after all) and thought I might as well just guesstimate in the thousands.

Later this month my baby turns 4 years old. The routine of arm-arm-click-crotch-click-click comes to an end. Grant will be four years old and forty pounds and by California law ready for a regular seat buckle and booster seat. Another major parenting milestone passes. Grant’s a big kid and could easily pass for 4 already. Poundage-wise he’s certainly big enough to switch seats now, and I’ve been tempted to do just that, but something besides the law is holding me back. This is my baby. I’m not ready.

Isn’t it odd though that I’m not looking forward to something that’s totally going to make my life easier?

Easier, but…The truth is, the experience of buckling your baby into their car seat is a pretty intimate one. It’s not only repetitive but you’re physically close to said baby time after time after time (year after year after year). Invading their little personal space, hands maneuvering their little appendages, smelling their smells (OK those sometimes are so great, I was thinking more along the lines of just-after-bath-baby smells.)

Here’s what I remember most about the routine. Not the hassle, but:

The snuggles. The kisses. The giggles. The big admiring eyes. The alligator tears (”Get me out of this thing!”). The times s/he didn’t know I was checking ‘em out in my rear view mirror. The sing songs, the baby conversations with themselves. The baby who fell asleep in the car, their soft purrs as I tried to gently lift them out of their seat (to keep them asleep, of course!). The cheeks, the little hands touching my cheeks. The closeness. The love. The love. The love.

Shortly, my new routine will become a few quick instructions–hop in, hop up, reach over and click. I’ll take out the used, filthy, stinky ol’ car seat. I’ll find old Goldfish crackers, Hot Wheels, Legos, popsicle sticks and even dried up chicken nugget hot mustard (all things I’ve honestly seen). I’ll clean up and vacuum. I’ll move in the cute little booster seat and admire my “new” car.

And then

I’ll shed a little tear for the closing chapter. For the three beautiful babies God has gifted me, for the precious (and challenging) years I’ve spent loading them up, in and out, and for the privilege that it is to raise my children.

For now, and until midnight on July 21st, I think I’ll let those Goldfish crackers stale just a little more.

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