I feel like my time with my children is like a rope that is being pulled away from me. As if one day someone picked up the other end and slowly started taking my slack away. I scrambled to get a grip again but it keeps pulling away, just like time.
Tim is a cruel thing. It will not pause when you need a moment to catch your breath. It will not slow down when feel like days have turned into hours. It will not rewind so you can enjoy a moment again.
And that is what I try to remind myself. My time with my children is now and now only, the pressure to in hale everything gets to me sometimes. Some nights I catch myself lying in bed going over my yeare with them, especially as a birthday rolls in. Some nights when I catch myself doing this, I swear I’m insane. But is it possible to love your child too much? I think not. I want to remember everything, down to their scent as newborns.
But it’s hard. I am human and my data chip can not possibly remember everything. As my son approach 7, I feel so far away from his baby days. The feeling it gives me is so indescribable. I feel sad but I feel excited at the same time. For one, I’ve been momming for 7 years now, hey hey! But also because that’s 7 years of being with him. 7 whole years we’ve been side kicks. It makes me wanna stand up and tell the future to bring it. We got this. But it also saddens me that those years got away so fast. I know in the deepest corner of my heart that I would feel this way even if I spent every second of life with him since birth. I’ll never feel like our time together has been enough.
I wish that I had the magical words to make your kids growing up easier, but I don’t. I think it will always be bittersweet and that’s ok. That means you truly cherish your time with your kids.
Parenting is hard.
Everything about it is hard. We are raising living, breathing, actual human beings who will spend years and years sucking the energy right out of us and demanding that we constantly feed them… And then… just like that.. they will be gone. No more waking up with your toddler’s butt cheek parallel to your face (why am I laying in a puddle? Oh it’s pee). No more explaining why butter can not be the main dish for dinner. No more requests to make up magical, action packed bedtime stories on the spot. If the thought of that does not make you snivel, then you might be Chuck Norris.
Every mother knows what I am talking about. We all have our days of clenching onto our child’s lifelong stuffed monkey while rocking back and forth in a corner sobbing in self pity at the thought of MY LITTLE BABIES NOT NEEDING ME ANYMORE.
We all have those days.
I have been known to write too long of a mushy, proud mommy status, on Facebook. No shame, by the way. I am a damn amazing (not perfect) mother. I cringe at the word perfect. I’m still learning and I’m blessed to have two kids to grow up with. I am a passionate mother and that makes me fierce beyond recognition, even when i feel like I’m failing as a mom.
The mind boggling part of motherhood is how the one thing that a mother is so strong for (her children), is the first ones that will bring her to her knees. We are mothers, hear us roar! And then your son tells you there is no where in the world he would rather be than with you. And back to the corner I go to rock and cry at the thought of him being a teen, wanting to spend his free time with his friends. I am mother, hear me cry? PARENTING IS SO HARD. As much as I’d love to keep them to myself forever, I’m selfless enough to know that they need to spread their wings. I am a crucial part of their lives but I know I can’t keep them to myself forever. It is a part of them growing up. Excuse me while I go back to my corner.
You’re not alone walking the streets of motherhood. Throughout my posts there will be cursing, questioning, laughing, thanking and all the feels. Read my blogs and we can cry over spilt milk together. For the record, who ever said that there is no point in crying over spilt milk has never spent 2 hours unclogging their milk ducts just to accidently knock over the 2 ounces they managed to get out. Oh my poor nipples.
Welcome to my ‘hood.