E and I have been discussing time lately. Specifically how it can sometimes go quickly, while other times it seems to take forever. It started during nap time. E is getting to an age where he hasn’t given up naps yet, but he doesn’t take one every day either. We tell him that he can nap if he wants to, and if not he can have quiet time in his room. He usually does a combination of resting in his bed, maybe with a book, or playing with his dollhouse.
One day after a busy morning, E was especially tired and napped the entire time. When I came in to get him up, he asked me why I had come back so quickly. I wasn’t sure what he was asking, since it was 2:00 - the same time I always come get him. Since he’d slept the entire time, though, it felt to him as if those hours had passed quickly.
I feel it too. Sometimes it seems like just yesterday I was leaving my office in Boston for the last time, wondering how long I’d be working from home. And yet somehow on my first day working from home during this pandemic I had two children, only one of which could walk. And now 20 months later I have three children. Time must be passing, but it feels like it shouldn’t be.
If it weren’t for the few Halloween decorations that I see on my drives to and from daycare, it would be easy to think that it’s still early summer. There’s a playground nearby that we go to occasionally. At the beginning of the summer, they paved the lot but never quite finished. The construction signs were still up, and the lines hadn’t been painted. Across the street from the park, there’s a house that was having its siding redone. Almost finished except for the top corner on the side. The scaffolding is set up, and it looks like the job could easily be finished in an hour or so. I’ve had a bet with myself to see which one would be finished first. As the weeks and then months have been passing, it’s become almost comical. I’m pretty sure at this point the snow will show up before either of these projects are finished.
All of these things make me feel like time isn’t moving, yet it’s flying by at the same time. I’m desperately trying to hold onto it, as this will be my last baby and I want to soak everything in one more time. But yet I look down and don’t know where my squishy newborn went. How can she possibly be this big when it’s still March 2020 in my mind?
I know I’m going to blink and suddenly my kids are all going to be moving out of the house and no one will want to give me hugs or sleep in my arms, but how can I slow down time and enjoy this moment forever? Because this moment is totally my favorite.
