Time passes so quickly when you are an adult. I remember being a child and thinking that the summer lasted forever, or that it was an eternity until I was in high school, or could drive. Even my 20’s seemed to linger nicely and not rush. I didn’t marry until I was 30 and from that point on the speed of my life took on a rocket booster.
Two children and ten years later, I find myself grasping for more time. That feeling sneaks up on me, unexpected, from the deepest parts of my brain. It happened just last night, in fact. My seven-year-old son came downstairs at bedtime, crying because he was “burning hot” and couldn’t sleep. I dutifully checked his temperature (totally normal) and felt around on him for hot spots. I suggested several solutions to his problem, each one resulting in a return of tears and frustration of not being able to sleep because he was hot. Finally, my husband put him in a cool bath to try to calm him. But back he came to me with tears in his eyes and asking me to “just help”.
I knew what was troubling him, he wasn’t so hot as he was in need of his mother but for whatever reason last night he couldn’t articulate it. Maybe he didn’t want to tell me because lately I have been frustrated and stressed, making me unapproachable. Whatever the reasons, his need for me manifested in a strange way. So, I climbed the stairs after him with the promise that I knew what precisely he needed.
Jake went right to his room where his curious father also waited to find out what this magical cure I had promised would be. I came in with a new top sheet for his bed, telling him that the best cure for hotness was certainly a cool sheet. I removed his blanket and spread out the sheet, singing him a little song. Jake started to yawn. I playfully put the sheet down on him; studying him intently for signs of sickness or fever – none appeared. He liked the sheet idea but what I did next in my two step program was the real cure. I laid down with him. I often lay down with him but last night he didn’t know how to ask me. I stroked his hair and sang him a lullaby and before I was finished with the second song he was asleep. Not more than two minutes after I laid down with him he was sound asleep. But that wasn’t my ‘a-ha’ moment.
These few minutes last night gave me pause. I studied my now-sleeping son. His face now peaceful and at rest had just moments ago been wrenched in distress. His little snore had replaced cries of “just help”. As I looked at him, I noticed how much he still resembles his infant-self; the baby I cradled in my arms just a few years ago. The same little mannerisms were there; his pursed lips as he drifted into a dream, his occasional crinkled nose. I must have studied his face for ten minutes, entranced by this moment of recollection. He is growing so fast, and I feel like I have missed so much. Before I knew it, I felt myself letting go of my crankiness that I’ve had for the past weeks (or is it months?). The crankiness was replaced by tears. Tears started shooting out of my eyes in big, fat drops. My sadness was for the time that had passed for Jake without me there, time spent at work or doing other things, time away from him.
I felt the hot wetness of my crying and tried to reason with myself that I was home every night and spent every possible moment but the tears kept coming because I realize that I only have a few short years of my children being children. Soon they’ll be teenagers and then young adults and while they may feel that time drags for them (as I did in my youth) I know that it passes quickly. I desperately want to keep these moments with my children and I worry endlessly that because I am a working mom, that I am missing that time with them. More to come on these thoughts….
