I was always the tallest in one in our house growing up. It was only by a smudge, but being a middle child and one of four kids, I always felt like I was practically disappearing, so I took pride in having the height advantage.
At 5’7”, my kids’ pediatrician told me I was on the taller side for a woman. But their charts told her they’d pass me before long. She was right and it happened before I was ready.
They come from a long line of tall folks and they aren’t slowing down. In fact, their doctor predicted my sons will be about 6’4” before they are done sprouting.
Oh, and side note: as a single mum to three kids, I’m not the only the shortest one in the house, I’m the oldest and my kids remind me of these truths often.
You don’t know awkward until you are looking up at you thirteen-year-old son telling him to go to his room. He stands at six feet tall and isn’t even as tall as his sixteen- year-old brother.
When the two of them are wrestling, or decide they just aren’t going to take out the trash with I ask them to, I’m left with no choice but to change the a WiFi password in order to get them to comply. There’s just no other way.
Even when I wear my tallest heels, I don’t reach my boys in height. My daughter is a touch taller than me, but at fourteen she still has a little growing to do and I’m sure she’ll be staring at the top of my head soon.
There are many times they laugh and pat my head when we are standing next to each other. I’m so glad I can humour them with my height.
I used to feel like the adult and in control, but I have to admit being the short one at home makes me feel like a kid around them. I’ve learned how to use my voice and I often “forget” buy their favourite foods when they are acting up to establish dominance.
I’m constantly asking them to reach things for me, see how bad my gray roots are, and I’m always in the backseat when my son drives because it’s only fair to give my much taller children the leg room.
One minute you always getting things for them, and picking them up so they can see. The next thing you know, you are asking them to change the light bulbs and move their head so you can see the television.
It’s a new position for me to be in and still not used to it. Looks like I have to be though. They just won’t stop growing. I just bought my son a few new pairs of pants because he’s always grown out on the ones I got him for Christmas. So, not only is having kids who are taller than you weird, it’s expensive.
And the thing is, even though they grow up and surpass you in height, you still see the precious, soft little babe they once were when you look at them. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t long to hold one of them on my lap, or carry them around on my hip for a bit. I’ve heard this feeling never goes away– there’s nothing like snuggling with your tiny tot.
The other day I tried snuggling with my son on the sofa and it just wasn’t the same. I have a sliver of the sofa and kept feeling like I was going to fall off. I guess him throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me around is going to be the only kind of cuddle fest I get.