Today was the first day of school for 2 of my 3 kids. The high-schooler is currently sleeping as late as humanly possible on her last day of summer, but the boys were dropped off a bit ago after what seemed like approximately 7.5 seconds since I picked them up on their last day in June.
I came home with a head full of ideas and a to-do list equally long.
I did nothing except sit on my couch with my dogs and listen to the silence.
To be honest, the house has been silent at this time of day for nearly the whole summer. Seems they start sleeping later just as you enter the phase of life where you can’t. So, I have gotten used to quiet mornings, but there is something comforting about knowing that they are softly snuggled in their beds while I putter around getting ready for work each day.
Today, we were back to the mad-dash of energy to leave and then the deafening silence upon my return. And I’ll be honest, I hate it all.
I used to get so annoyed when my babes were little and someone, likely well meaning, would wag their finger and remind me to “cherish it all because it goes so fast.” I was annoyed because I was tired and probably unshowered and covered in all manner of sticky substance, human or food produced and the last thing I could possibly imagine was cherishing that moment or wanting it in any way to slow down.
I wasn’t very good at being a little kid mom.
But, man, now it’s like this karma of all those little old grandmas who warned me is striking with a vengeance. Not only is time passing so quickly it’s whiplash inducing, but also, and this is the worst part, I am painfully aware of each passing second and how I wish I could cherish it more than I am ever able to do so.
I know this time is golden. I know I’ll never get it back. I know how damn lucky I am to have it at all.
And yet, there it goes, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand and there is nothing I can do to stop or contain it. I want nothing more than to stop everything else and just ABSORB this time, but the world is not cooperating with my wishes.
Sure, we have packed in as many moments that become memories as we have been able. There have been road trips and UNO games and family dinners filled with silliness and laughter. I will pat us on the back, The Husband and I. We enjoy our children’s company, so we try to be in it as much as they’ll allow.
But no matter the amount of moments that turn to memories, they’re never enough. There is work to be done and carpool to run and sickness that just won’t freaking stay at bay. It’s funny really, ironic- in an Alanis Morissette kind of way. Back then, when they were small and my job was 24-7 mothering, all I wanted was to have other stuff in my life. I wanted time for career and girlfriends, even exercise seemed appealing. Now, when all I want is to focus on motherhood, life is full of a million distractions, most necessary for someone’s well-being, theirs or mine.
So this morning, another moment that is threatening to be no more than a memory too soon, I will sit and give myself time to wallow in mommy-ing. I will look through old pictures and kiss the forehead of my babygirl teenager while she sleeps. I will go to work and (sorry clients) likely be distracted for a while. Then I’ll come home and skip my own school work in lieu of making my babies dinner and hearing their voices fill up my home. Then I will sleep, knowing that I am doing my best to absorb these days, so aware that they are numbered.
And I will thank the universe for the gifts of being a mom, for they are plentiful and pure and I am lucky to have them. Even if they are merely grains of sand, swiftly moving but soft and warm.
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