I find myself frequently conflicted over the desire for these days to pass by so quickly versus the hope that certain moments will last forever. That doesn’t make sense to you either … does it?
Bear with me because I’m going to get a little deep on y’all. I think everyone, at some point in time, just wants to be anywhere but here. Here could be a myriad of situations – whether it’s a ‘Monday’, or exam day, or with a screaming newborn, or <insert situation you would rather not be in>. Many days, I would rather not be here because here is hard and different and not normal or what I feel comfortable with. I feel like I’ve been here for so long that I wish that I could just be anywhere else … but here.
However, there are days when here feels really, really good. Like last night, for example, Connor and I played miniature golf (and the little whipper-snapper almost beat me … legitimately!), rode bumper cars and shot little foam balls at targets before shooting each other. We had a total blast and I wished the evening never had to end. I was still here, in this place, but it was easy and normal and comfortable.
Today was Connor’s last day (this time I think it’s for real) at his daycare. It felt bittersweet. He’s going into FIRST grade and is so excited and eager for school to begin. He’s sort of ‘over’ daycare and I’m proud of him for that. But, I’m also sad that our days at First Care came to an end. I love the feeling that comes along with him being there. We’re super close (he’s literally a few blocks away from my office); I know he’s safe; and I know his presence there represents that he’s still a little boy in some regard.
I remember when Connor was a little boy … when he was a baby. I had no clue what I was doing
(heck, I still don’t) and I wanted for him so badly to just tell me what.in.the.world.he.was.thinking. It just doesn’t seem like that long ago and yet now here he is … telling me all about dinosaurs and that he makes me smarter (he does, by the way) and that he loves me. I remember how badly I wanted for him to say that. Now that he does, I don’t ever want him to stop and I’m sure five years from now, he’ll be telling me how totally lame I am. The moments like we had today in the car where we literally had that very conversation (not the lame one) are those I never want to end. I frankly don’t care that I tear up when he simply says, “I love you, mom.”
The other thing he said today, though, that gave me a fresh perspective was that he didn’t want to be a kid because it was so hard. He said, “No one listens to you, you have to go to bed at a certain time and people tell you what to do all the time.” I felt so bad for him that he thinks it’s so awful to be a kid! I told him that we have to go through every stage of life to learn how to move into the next. I reminded him that I was a kid once and although I’m sure I complained of much the same that looking back it seems so.much.easier.
I took the same advice I was giving him to heart. I have to be here for now and I might as well appreciate it, at least in part, because it’s what’s going to get me there. I just hope when I get there that I remember that everything that felt so sucky here was, really, just a matter of time.
You have a very, very smart boy … amazing what our children can teach us, isn’t it? I love this: “I took the same advice I was giving him to heart. I have to be here for now and I might as well appreciate it, at least in part, because it’s what’s going to get me there. I just hope when I get there that I remember that everything that felt so sucky here was, really, just a matter of time.” Beautifully said. And you will get there; you will. I’m sure of it. Love you.
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