I read today that this is the number of weeks between a child’s birth and their graduation. 936. 936. Let that sink into me. It’s worth repeating to myself until I grasp it’s smallness.
With Holton already having passed this milestone a few years ago, I can say that it seems like even that number doesn’t sound accurate. It seems as if it is only a blink. With Haigan approaching this age, it is worth acknowledging that I still have a few of those weeks left.
How is it that we can put most things on hold? We can hit snooze to get a few more minutes of sleep. We can pause and replay to get another chance, another glimpse, another second. We can dvr to watch something later. But we can’t slow down time for anyone….not even for our children. Or, as I believe, mostly for us as parents. Children are always ready for the next thing. When they crawl, they want to walk. When they walk, they long to run. When they are in middle school, high school is the goal. High school isn’t over before they are preparing for college. Oh, if they only knew.
Parenting and thinking of my children stirs my deepest emotions. I miss them when I’m not with them. I pray over them. I seriously have a hard time grasping God’s love for us because I trust that it is more than I can love my children. How can that be? There is a moma heart so full of love for each of them.
Time does go so quickly. When Holton was young, he slept in a toddler bed beside me. He liked for me to hold his hand while he fell asleep. Where did the time go? It’s hard to get those fingers to type an answer to a text in today’s phase. That little boy is all grown up but he will always be my baby. Where do the years go? With Haigan, I can remember reaching back for a little hand as I crossed the parking lot only to find empty space and a young man walking along beside me where a little boy had just been. A little boy who would not let me sing “Twinkle, twinkle little star” out loud because it would make him miss me too much now leads worship. I can remember when dinosaurs and boats got put away under the sink in totes and bubble baths turned into midnight showers. I wish I had paid more attention to when it was exactly that I stopped finding velcro nerf bullets in my sweaters. When was it exactly that the last army man parachuted from the second floor? Exactly when was it that I stepped on matchbox cars at 1 am? When was it that the Tonka truck rusted outside? I will not know.
What I do know is that each phase, each season, has wonderful things to offer. I won’t lie and say that I don’t miss the closeness that I had with the boys. I do. I’m so proud. I suppose that the evidence of a job done well is that your children learn to do for themselves. Sigh. Time……you’re moving on.
Help me learn to slow down and enjoy this vapor.