In the Blink of An Eye

I was getting the boys dressed a few days ago and suddenly, I started crying.  It's the middle of January, which means that they will be five years old in just two months.  I felt pangs in my chest and visions of them as newborns flooded my mind....taking them to the pediatrician and seeing the scale say 7 pounds, dressing them in tiny matching outfits, napping with them both on my chest, crying just because I loved them so much.  Then I thought about how my oldest are almost 13 and I really couldn't breathe.  Eighth grade is months away and by the time I am 34, I will say "I have two in high school".  I don't know where the time is going, and quite honestly, it's scaring the crap out of me.

Even as a child, I was a baby person.  I was the little girl who begged to babysit before I was legally allowed, I always knew what I would name my children one day, and I always knew I would have at least 4.  I asked my mom a few years ago if she was surprised at all that I had four, and she said "No, of your brother and sister, I always knew you would be the one to have a lot of kids".  In fact, she still has a premonition that I will have one more; I tell her she is nuts.  Anyway, I have a sadness in my heart right now that feels almost stingy and silly.  How can I be sad about something that was such a blessing in the first place?  How can I cry about five years of moments being gone with children that I did nothing to deserve to begin with?  How can I do that and look God in the face, because He is the reason that I have been so blessed in the first place.  And what about the people who can't have a child or who have lost the one they had?  Trust me, I feel so spoiled and selfish when I say this, but I am sad that the milestones I always looked forward to as a little girl, are gone.

I am not one of these mothers that looks forward to adult moments with my children because I am not waiting to cross some parenting finish-line, because I enjoy it.  It isn't like I am counting down the days until they're gone because I wanted them here, or I wouldn't have had children.  I didn't have children just to say I did or to carry on my bloodline, and I don't view the little moments with them as pesky.  I love my kids and the only sense of relief I feel as they grow older is that I kept them alive and happy another year.  I love their footed pajamas, I love watching PBS in the morning with them, and I love their little stories.  I love their baby feet, I love their faces when they see something cool or learn something new, and I love how the rest of the world doesn't matter to them yet.  All the boys want is for me to be around, and it's precious. 

In the blink of an eye, Logan went from crying as an infant to playing so many seasons of baseball and football that I can't keep them straight.   He no longer says "gremote" for remote and "Piderman" for his favorite Superhero.  He's replaced Superheros with girls.  In the blink of an eye, Lindsey has danced for nine years and cheered for who knows how long and she has built an entire identity based on these hobbies that she loves.  How has there been time for that??  She's donated all of her baby dolls and Barbies and has started asking for clothes and shoes for her birthday instead of toys.  She no longer says "I like her because she be's nice to me" and "Berrrry" for "Very".  Logan and Lindsey have lost their baby teeth, learned to ride a bike, and gone to their first school dance.  They now text their friends about what they'll be doing on the weekend rather than bug us to play outside with them.  In the blink of an eye, Carson has learned how to roll over, walk, and he's onto video games. Dylan went from sucking on his "Po" (his pacifier) and rubbing Bo's ear on his nose to telling his teachers how much he loves Baby Pannas.  Of course, he corrects me when I say Pannas.  He tells me that it's pronounced "Pan-DAS" 

It's going by too quickly.  I wish I could freeze time.