Just over a year ago, I turned in my letter of resignation and embarked on this journey of SAHMomming two kids. And now here I am, with only one week left with both of them here.
If Prufrock measured out his life in coffee spoons, in just one more week, I’m going to be measuring mine in summers. My time to influence his life, to make the kind of impact I hope to make, feels limited.
Joshua starts preschool on Monday and despite any (all) of the rough moments we’ve had in the past year, I’m really sort of sad about it.
He’s my sidekick. My best boy.
But he’s also growing up. And this is a reminder that my time with him, all of it, is dwindling. It’s going by so quickly in that blink-and-you’ll-miss-it way that only life really can.
The past year at home has been a long one. There have been days where everything went to pieces from the minute we all woke up and I’ve counted down to bedtime while every minute that ticked by on the clock felt like an eternity. There have been a lot of days. The ones that seem like they’ll never end.
But this past year has also been so incredibly short, made up of full days that were over as quickly as they began. Those were the days filled with love and laughter and those days have been the shortest ones. Those have been the days to make this year fly past us.
It’s funny how that happens. How the good and bad moments are their own time warps, each doing different things to our days and our lives.
In the balance of good and bad days of this past year, the good days have far outweighed the bad. And somehow I feel like I haven’t done enough to convey that, probably because I’ve been too busy living those good days, you know? I’ve been caught in the moments of happiness and I find it kind of hard to write about those moments. Mostly because I want to savor them, tuck them away and keep them in my heart to be pulled out when I need them.
And they’ve seemed…ordinary. The kind of days that few want to hear about because they’re just more of the same. A wash, rinse, repeat of regularity and comfort.
But there’s magic in an ordinary day. Magic that, for Joshua and me, is evolving. Again.
Joshua and I are always finding our way. Always.
We navigate these sometimes (often) rough waters of parenting and childhood together. Always together.
Now we’ll just have to do more with less time.
He’ll go off to navigate the preschool waters, without me, and I’ll be here finding my way with Emma, watching the clock until it’s time to pick him up.
Things are always changing with us.