It's the age-old adage: time flies.
I know everyone says it, and I know everyone feels that way most of the time. But there are occasional moments that it really hits home, and I realize just how little time I have to make the most of the small things.
As a single mom, things are...not always fun around my household. Weekday mornings are rushed, evenings are tense and rushed, and the time before bed is usually me sitting paralyzed on the couch trying to figure out the triage of chores and responsibilities.
This is when I have one of those rare moments that everything is clear: Laundry, washing the dishes, and picking up the clutter isn't important. Catching my Monday-night prime-time show, checking my e-mail, or looking things up on the Internet is not important. Checking my Facebook, kicking up my feet, and catching up on my reading is not important.
Each night before I fall asleep, I say I'm going to be better, do more with my kids and be a positive, happy parent. Then it's 7:30 a.m., and I've asked Charley to get dressed three times and Harper to brush his teeth twice. I'm already yelling. I feel terrible but tell myself I will get it together after work. By the time it's 7:00 p.m. and we still haven't had dinner, I feel like a failure. We don't have any time for that walk in the park or to play Candy Land. It's been all summer, and we're still not finished with Oz the Great and Powerful, a measly eighteen chapters that should have actually been finished in June or July.
How did I get here?
It doesn't seem like it was even more than a year ago that I was holding Harp in my arms and just staring at him. He was such a calm, laid-back, and happy baby. I just can't remember much between then and now, and I dread that the next seven years will be the same. I'm terrified to think that when he's fourteen, I will not know how we got there. He's already turning into a little boy who's interested in cars and looking cool. The world is slowly curling its fingers around him, and the innocence and wonder is beginning to melt away.
How can I slow time down and teach him all the things he needs to be a good person?
I'm losing. But I will not lose.
Here's the point where I make myself those same nightly promises, but this time I mean it. I will be better tomorrow. I will be a happy and positive parent. Because what's really, truly important is my kids' happiness, their innocence, the way the perceive human interaction, and how their little hearts grow. What's important is that they learn how to be good parents from my example. I'm going to be patient for Harper's insecurities and cautious nature, and I'm going to have more energy for Charley's fast-paced stories and enthusiasm. We are going to take that walk in the park and finish Oz the Great and Powerful.
Lately I have been remembering a lesson from my grandmother: if it doesn't hurt them, then let them do it.
Remembering that allowed this to happen:
I'm going to keep my promises I made to myself, but I'm not going to do it on my own. I'm going to rely on the wisdom from those who came before me, Mom and Grandmother, and the only one who can give me strength and hope when I feel like I have nothing left, God.
Tomorrow, for the first day of first grade, I told myself that I will get up early and make Harper his favorite breakfast before school, and by golly, I'm going to do it. Then I'll drive him to school and take tons of pictures and leave myself little notes so I won't forget where the time went.
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