Time is going by fast.
Remember when you were a kid and it seemed like summer lasted forever? And Christmas seemed like it would never come?
These days it seems like my birthday is every other week and that my kids are somehow growing through time-lapse photography.
Sometimes when I’m out with my kids, an elderly person will chuckle at my harried expression and stained shirt and say, “You’ve got your hands full!”
They’re right. I do.
And sometimes I feel like I’m not enjoying my life enough. Like I’m not grateful enough or happy enough. It bothers me that I am not always experiencing an “attitude of gratitude.” I try to be happy. I try to find the joy in cleaning up applesauce and throw up and scraping poop out from under my fingernails.
But raising little kids is hard. And people who say things like, “I loved every minute of it when my kids were little!” obviously never had a child pee in the floor in the Sears fitting room or eat a bowl of dog food for a morning snack.
There are moments when you WANT time to go fast. Like when you’re trying to get a diaper fastened before the monsoons begin or when you want someone to finish their temper tantrum and let go of your leg so you can finish lunch.
Yes, the days are long, but the years are short.
I constantly wonder if I’m doing a good job at parenting my kids, and I worry that I’m not enjoying it enough. Maybe I’m not making the most of every moment. Can I make up for “quality time” with all of this “quantity time?”
I’m with my children almost constantly and yet I still feel guilty if I leave them at home while go out for an hour alone. How can I not? They stand in the doorway and wave and blow kisses to me as I back out of the driveway!
I admit it: I look forward to bedtime. But sometimes at the end of the day I wonder what exactly I did with my kids all day. Did I luxuriate in the feel of their hugs? Did I look into their eyes and study the beauty of their precious faces? Did I make them feel special? Did I feed them healthy food and nourish their minds with a good book? Did I really hear them laughing (or crying) so that I can remember the sound of it? Did I do a good job, or did I just barely scrape by with my hands full?
Sometimes, I don’t WANT to tuck my kids in. I want their dad to do it while I go lay in bed and watch Say Yes to the Dress. But in the back of my mind, I worry about the day when I’ll be wishing that I still had my hands full. When they wanted me to tuck them in and snuggle them and sing them lullaby songs.
Parenting fluctuates between being a challenge and being a blessing.
Some days the only thing that keeps me from going off the deep end is reminding myself that those blessings will come. Those lightbulb moments when you teach them something and they get it. Those catch-your-breath-because-that-is-the-sweetest-thing-you’ve-ever-seen moments will come again and I need to be here to witness them – not running in the opposite direction.
Yes, sometimes I wish I was somewhere else. If I didn’t admit it, then I’d be lying. (If you don’t admit it, you are probably lying, too.) But knowing that my babies and my toddlers and my little kids are mine for such a tiny span of time is what keeps me from going over the edge. It’s what helps get me through the hard days (and nights.)
How many times have you spent a sleepless night with a sick baby? How many times have you rocked them or swayed them to sleep on your hip? Sometimes I stop and think – this moment – this is it. This is living.
My baby, his chubby baby cheeks, his long eyelashes, his wispy baby hair, his safeness and tiny hands and his snuggliness and sweet baby smell – this is it. One day soon his snorty little crying pouty face is going to be the face of a teenager. He will be the one backing out of the driveway while I’m the one waving and blowing kisses out the door.
I need to remind myself to slow down and be. Be here in this moment.
Fast-forwarding through the tough poop-under-the fingernails moments will rob me of some precious moments. These times will never be here again. When I’m holding a crying toddler in one arm and trying to change the laundry with the other or when I’m overscheduled and underslept, or when I’m mediating a sibling conflict or praying for direction or healing and I would give anything for a quiet hour to myself – I know that even though it’s hard, it is what it is.
And it goes too fast. Way too fast. And the worst thing in the world would be for me to one day wake up in a clean, empty, quiet house and realize that I have somehow missed it all.
And isn’t the big picture just a whole lot of little pictures put together?
Yes, my hands are full, but all too soon, they won’t be.
-from my article for www.mentorpatch.com from July 29, 2012
