time is speeding up

I looked at Claire (she’s 12 1/2) the other day and realized she would be driving in 3 1/2 years.  The thought of this had my stomach doing a flip.  I felt something in my throat and almost felt teary.  It wasn’t about the driving.  How is it possible that my first born will be a teenager in 5 months?  It seems like such a short time ago that I was having a horrible pregnancy and couldn’t wait for her to be born.  How have almost 13 years gone by?

Let me first say that I know everyone says raising your children goes by in a hot minute.  Ever heard the phrase “The days are long but the years are short”?  I thought of that phrase many times when I was home with two small children during the day.  I remember Greg leaving at 6am most mornings and knew he wouldn’t be back until almost 12 hours later.  The hours would stretch out in front of me like an endless ocean.  What would I do all day with 2 small children?  How would I keep them entertained?   Would they nap at the same time?   I couldn’t wait for Greg to be home in the evening.

Some days seemed endless with a lack of concrete plans or laundry or fussy kids.  Some days were quicker.  Many days we had lots of fun.  Many days we didn’t .  When you have little ones, it’s hard work.  On more than one occasion, I’d wish for the day to be over.  Heck I’d wish for the year to be over, thinking if they were just another year old they’d....be out of diapers, or could play in the basement on their own, or play in the backyard unsupervised.  I remember being so tired and thinking, this has got to get easier.  (I often wonder if this was normal to feel this way or if it was depression speaking.)  

Once my kids got a little older, say elementary age, they began to act more independently.  They could get their own snack or turn the tv on by themselves.  Or even play with each other (if I was lucky).   They went to school during the day, breaking the day up into very manageable parts.  Then I started to notice time moving faster.  Where did that school year go?  How is it possible that we’ve been in dance all year and it’s time for the recital?  Summer is over already?  How?  Kindergarten is over?  Already?

But then the thought struck me.  YEARS have gone by.  My youngest, Jenna (she’s 10) is in her last year of elementary school.  Her last year.  She was just 3, clinging to me for dear life, hating to have her picture taken (oh how she has changed!) or be dropped off at school.   Claire, who used to be terrified of dancing, is now dancing 3-4 days a week and is beautiful ballerina.  Jenna who was even more scared of dancing now loves the stage and attention and gymnastics.  

I look back at pictures and see how incredibly much they’ve grown and I feel sad.  Sad for wishing a day away.  Sad for wishing months away.  Why didn’t I stop and enjoy the moment more?  Why was I always looking to make it easier?  Parenting is hard.  Period.   I’m trying to enjoy the moment now.  But I didn’t always.  

I love the ages my kids are now.  I love that my children are still kids.  Yet, they’re independent in many  ways.  They still love to cuddle and talk. They still come to me with problems and  know that I can help.  While they no longer think I’m all knowing, they know they can count on me if needed. 

As the teenage years rapidly approach though, I know they will become even more independent. They may not want to hold my hand or ask my advice.  They will look to their friends, instead of their parents.   They’ll even think I’m goofy (they’d be right) and dress funny.   And I’ll be wishing for my time back. The time I wished away when they were little.  The time when I was tired and just wanted them to sleep, behave, or act more independent.  Why did I wish that time away?

Some people think of the time they have left.  Like, once their child graduates from high school, they’re officially on their own.  I’m trying not to think of high school or college as THE END.  It’s another step in their lives.  But there is some kind of ending there.  At some point they won’t live with me anymore.  At some point they’ll make their own adult decisions.  And at some point they will be on their own.  But I’ll always be their mom.     

I’ll never stop wishing I had that time back when they were little.  I’ll never stop wishing time had slowed down a little.  Because I won’t get that time back.  But I will try right now to cherish each moment more.