hurtling

Today flew by. Sometimes I stop and think about just how weird it is that the kids are suddenly as old as they are right now. I'm serious. I know that everyone says that, so it's not just that I've had an enlightening moment. I now understand those annoying old aunties who my mom and I used to bump into at a family gathering or reunion who would spend the first few awkward moments going on about how much I've grown since I was "this big" and doing "this bad thing" at her house when she used to babysit, and did I remember that? No, sorry I never do. Oddly enough my parents had a hard time keeping babysitters.

It confounds me too. I mean, who wouldn't want to babysit me?

Where was I? Right. Hurtling towards death. Literally. I went to a baby shower today for a really cool friend who is about to have her first baby and join the ranks of the haggard, I mean blessed. Blessed. Think Tiffany, think. Blessed. Carrying on . . .

It was just a few years ago that I was having my first baby and my baby shower, right? It couldn't have possibly been 6.5, could it? I guess so. In the blink of an eye, six and a half years of my life - gone.

I bet you're glad you tuned in today.

Steven and I have been together for over eleven years. When I think back to earlier years I can see how it was eleven years ago. We've done a lot of stuff. Still, eleven years? How? I am not that old! Oh, wait, you're right.

I kid you not. Hurtling. I not only have grey hairs, but also wrinkles. You know who has those things things? Hurtling people.

That being said, I understand the live each day like it's your last mentality, but I don't have time. If it was my last day I'd just leave the dishes in the sink, or better yet I'd eat out. Hopefully my last day falls on a Wednesday and I can just go for wings. If I lived each day like my last I'd be very heavy, very broke and living in a very messy house. Plus I'd probably do a lot of crying. I really don't want a last day. If I can find Louis or Lestat I'll rectify that. Hopefully Louis. My lanta he's hot. I mean, efficient. Let's go with that. He's seriously got to stop moping though. That's a bit of a turn off. Lestat is a bit too manic.

You know what, never mind. Skip that last paragraph in your second reading.

I'm not really being all mopey and deathy. It's kind of a thing Steven and I comment on once in a while that we're hurtling through life. Of course I take it one step too far and add in "toward death." He rolls his eyes, we laugh because I'm hilarious and we move on.

My life is pretty good. Our kids are (mostly) happy, (as) healthy (as one can be eating only bread, peanut butter and gold fish crackers) and quite entertaining. My husband is quite literally my best friend. We've got family we love, family who loves our kids, friends who are always jumping out of the bushes to help keep the social calendar buzzing, a job the hubby likes and a way to make this whole crazy ship keep dodging those ice burgs. I can't complain.

But boy, do they ever grow up fast.

Jordan told me the other night that she wanted to go to Zumba with me. I told her no. She pouted and said with as much seriousness and authority her little china doll face could muster that she was six years old!! and therefore should be allowed to attend Zumba. I didn't even respond for a moment. The look on her face was priceless. She really is six years old, and soon she'll be seven, and then eight, and then 25.

Remember that time she was born? I do. Vaguely. The boys too - what was I doing that took so long that when I turned back around they were standing there as big as they are?

It's crazy. If I could slow down time right now I'd do it in a heartbeat.

But I'd have said the same thing six years ago. How can I simultaneously have it all? Every perk of every stage, every new moment of each new year. It's all so wondrous really, to have these four little people in my home and to have made them and now be actually raising them (I'm convinced it's more facilitating than anything). They change and morph every day.

Six and a half years ago when I first embarked on this whole motherhood thing it seemed so simple. Okay, the exhaustion and lifestyle change and all that was definitely anything but simple, but overall it was. Jordan was a baby, I was her mother and for now my job was to keep her happy and fed and stay sane with little to no sleep. She was gorgeous and cuddly and all mine, and her favorite place in the world was curled up on my shoulder while she slept and drooled just a little. She didn't really want much else.  It wasn't complicated.

Now it's not so much that she's not mine, but she and her siblings have their own minds, wants and desires. They ask questions about their futures. I don't know why I bother answering them, since they'll find their own answers in due time, since they're hurtling toward the end and all.

Not sure where I'm going with all of this.

The baby shower set it off I'm sure. Maybe it's the excitement and promise of new life, and an entirely new chapter in ones own life. Nobody can really understand what it's like to be a mother until someone drops that new baby into your waiting arms and sends you home.

It's amazing.

Sometimes along the way when things get bogged down in teaching manners and rules and responsibilities, as well as trying to organize a day around five other people and drive people here and there and keep everyone fed I think I forget to take a step back and remember that initial anxious excitement as I started this all. It's easy to focus on kids head butting each other and bickering and throwing up at three in the morning and forget that the big picture is amazing. Family is amazing, kids are amazing.

That very first baby I sat and pored over in the hospital with her ten little fingers and her ten little toes and her baby fuzz head and her daddy's nose and all the potential in the world is laying down the hall right now. She's wrapped up in her blanket with her tangly hair splayed out across the pillow, a little bit of perspiration making the wisps along her hairline curl. Her face is content, the emotions of the day taking a rest. Her long, strong arms and legs are at still after a day of running around and laughing, bickering, playing nintendo, helping with setting the table, and teasing her parents. Her three younger siblings are sleeping in their beds too, confident that we're watching over them and keeping them safe.

We are hurtling through time. But what a wild ride!

Comments

I'm glad that you have such wonderful company while hurtling. Time is such a funny thing. When you're young it is entirely too slow and as you get older I'm positive something shifts in the universe and it really does speed up. I can't believe I'll be holding my baby girl in 4 and a half months.
Catherine said…
This post should have had a grab a box of Kleenex warning. As much as I am bitching and complaining right now about being so pregnant I know in a few weeks he is going to be here, and it just goes faster from there.
Tiffany said…
Toni it's so true! At the end of my pregnancies I could not WAIT to be done and have the baby, and then suddenly the baby is 18 months old and I feel like I can't even remember that precious time at the beginning.

Sorry Catherine!

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