Thursday, January 19, 2012

Mirror In The Sky

Life happens in a blink of an eye.  A moment ago I was graduating college and now here I sit the mother of a 4.5 year old and almost 2 year old.  Where do those days and months and years disappear to?  How can it be that my daughter will start Kindergarten in the fall?  How is it that I'm already thinking about potty training my baby boy?

For me, the passage of time does just that, passes.  Sure, there are times when I long for Ainsley as a newborn and feeling Freddie kick me from inside.  But, I think I deal with it well.  I try and enjoy the present.  Try not to focus too much on the past or future.  I try and make real memories with my kids, today.  I enjoy their age and never wish for moments to pass too quickly or too slowly.  

But every once in awhile, time jumps right up and smacks me in the face and then it's all I can see.  I'm having one of those moments.  I lay and bed and think about how one day, this will be gone.  This life that I know, where my kids fight over who I put to bed, where my babies cry every morning when I leave, where they jump up and down when I will be over and we'll have moved on to another stage.  One where I don't play a central role in their lives.  And that can be a scary thought, because what if I miss this so much that I shrivel up and die?

I try reminding myself that I've already gone through over 5 years of stages...from pregnancy, to almost Kindergarten.  And each stage is awesome in it's own way.  I'm not terribly sad about the loss of the old because the next one offers so much more.  Once I'm in that new phase, then it becomes the life I know.

So while I'm in this moment, I'm trying to soak up this stage.  Really mold it into my soul.  Even the mundane, tiresome, dull parts that make up this time are being seared into my heart.

I play dolls with Ainsley, even if it's boring.  Even if we run through the same storyline every day.  Even if we have to play with all 50 dolls at once (which is totally impossible by the way).  I do it because this will end and she'll want to play with her friends instead.

I perch Freddie on my hip, then on the counter when my arm is too tired, and make dinner one handed.  Even if it takes longer.  Even though my left arm is way buffer than my right.  I do it because this will end and he'll prefer to ride bikes through the neighborhood while I make dinner.

I tell Ainsley the same Disney princess stories every night on the way home.  Even though she knows them by heart.  Even if she corrects my tiniest details.  I do it because this will end and she'll choose to spend hours on the phone instead of talking to me.

I hold Freddie through dinner if he wants.  Even though I have trouble eating myself.  Even though he climbs all over me.  I do it because this will end and he'll take girls to dinner instead.

I've given up on getting Ainsley to sleep on her own.  Instead I cuddle her up until she falls asleep and actually look forward to her crawling between Clif and I so I can snuggle some more.  I do it because this will end and she'll be married, putting her own babies to bed.  

I rock Freddie to sleep.  I breath in his sweet baby shampoo and I feel his chubby hands around my neck.  I  try and memorize the way he feels in my arms right now at 22 months, 27 pounds.  I do it because this will end and his chub will turn to height and I'll have to look up to talk to him.

And when Ainsley is snuggling those babies and I'm looking up to Freddie, I want to be able to recall all these moments - the good and the bad.  I just hope that those stages will be so great that I won't miss these ones so much.

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