This Too Shall Pass

I didn’t (fully) understand the impact that the Kindergarten monster would have on me.  I’m strong! (wrong).  I am resiliant! (wrong).  I can adapt with ease! (wrong). While I’ve genuinely tried to be hyper-aware of living in the present and embracing every NEW moment (especially for the babies I still have by my side); I’ve, admittedly, been trading my joy for SO much sadness re: the reality of the swift passage of time. 

“This too shall pass” was a phrase I often clung to during lonely college exam nights, and my dad’s terminal illness; but the phrase is no respecter of persons, and the most joyful moments of one’s life (read: smelling a newborn’s neck) shall too: pass.

The past four months of mothering have been a shift of “growing up” like no other short-space-of-time before.  My baby purrs when you ask him what a car says (his dad had visible tears in his eyes: “MY BOY!”); and his old soul resembles nothing of a baby.  He’s still one!  I will tell you he’s one until the day he turns two (and then I might lie). My oldest turned six, and she might as well have turned 18.  You’re invited to play with the babies if you’re 0-5.  Six is a game-changer.  We’ve entered the big leagues.

My forever baby still weighs 26 pounds and wears a 2T…so you’ll forever find me in the baby girl section of Baby Gap shopping for my (ahem) 4-year-old.

I could be wrong, I only know what I’ve experienced thus far, but in my self-inflicted sadness, I just don’t think the milestone of the first date will fill me up like the milestone of the first step.  The weight of a brand-new 6 pound baby (fresh from heaven) will probably trump the eighth birthday party; and the exhaustion that comes from nursing a wriggling newborn will feel different than the exhaustion that comes from waiting for the car lights to pull in after a night with friends. 

Will her first middle school awards ceremony be as magical as the first time she said “mommy”?  And when she puts on her wedding veil, will I choke up as much as I did when she laughed for the first time?

For what it is worth, I have loved being a mother of babies. I love it so much (IT’S NOT OVER SHE SAYS); it (actually) hurts – in all the good ways.

In an effort to embrace the present; I’ve filled my cup with lists of good things that happen with the passage of time, the growing up, the “moving to the next stage”.  And it keeps falling short (as in, there is no list).  I have felt a kinship with my maker as I’ve been (happily) buried in His work; and as I inch out of the “I can’t leave the baby, I’m nursing”, to “sure I will go out to lunch!”…I feel an emptiness I don’t want to feel.

There is no greater work than that of being a mother; and I feel like it naturally puts priorities where they should be (plus yoga pants, athleisure, and 3-day-old-hair on repeat).

But!  As we stood on the shores of Navarre Beach without sprinting after each child who may potentially drown/gag themselves with sand/scratch their corneas out/etc. it hit me that the passage of time had created this scene.  You know, we could miss out on the pain; but then we’d miss out on the dance? #garthhasalltheanswers

We are growing up individually yes; but we are also growing INTO each other more.  We aren’t two frazzled twenty-something-parents questioning our ability to read a thermometer next to a screaming infant, but rather (somewhat) confident thirty-something-parents who have earned/survived/trudged through one thousand sleepless nights for this moment of bliss, with capable children (I mean, he’s still one…but), by the sea.  We are a unit; we all have a voice, and the once-helpless babies can make pinky promises behind our backs (bulging eye emoji).

This too shall pass, yes.  But I will have my tap shoes laced up tight for the joy that inevitably comes with the dance. #maybe #sob