Yeah, me too.
We've come to the end. We've made it to the finish line in many respects. Our little birds have flown the coop. From what I hear, time only goes faster from here on out.
Oh Lord, please make time stand still.
Wanna see me cry? Let's just start talking about how someday these little people who are MINE, (mine mine mine), will one day, up and leave me. And they won't need me or in some rare (very rare) cases, they won't want me (I don't want me either, guys).
And this once bustling and busy house will be empty. And too quiet. And perhaps really clean.
I already feel like I want to make time stand still. My "baby" will very soon make the transition to "toddler" and my big guy Mr. A is officially no longer a toddler or preschooler. We've entered the realm of grade school y'all and I'm completely terrified. Can you imagine these kids in middle school or high school?
I can't, really. And I don't want to. Do you see the level of completely irrational emotions I go to? Two of my kids aren't even in school yet, and the other two are in primary grades.
In the words of a fave blogger, Jen, "I should be medicated."
And then the crying, like instantaneous sobbing, with every class assignment letter we receive. I made the mistake of opening one of those bad boys in the front yard while the kids were playing last week. Mr. A's response? "Mommy, why are you whining?"
Compassionate little fellow.
Then I nearly choked myself on a sob at the school today while looking at the new class assignments list they put out in the window. Of course I was surrounded by a group of other, more experienced moms. I felt like the word "rookie" was emblazoned across my forehead.
Oh geez, here comes "the crier."
They probably have a bet going on how many seconds it'll take me to ugly cry on the first day of school. ($50 bucks says I don't last 10 seconds).
But the school issue aside, even when I'm home with my babies, I'm constantly taking pictures of them to help me remember this crazy time. And oh the iPhone videos in an effort to capture those moments full of garbled toddler-ese grunts and grins. Or the way they dance with one leg cocked out to the side. Or their funny little songs.
And even with those pics or videos in hand and heart, I still forget. Because they always seem to get bigger even when I ask them specifically not to. Then over time I can't seem to remember what they were REALLY like every day.
How their small voices sounded.
Their little mannerisms.
What their hands felt like.
The funny ways they said, "carry you" with outstretched arms for "pick me up," or "gueek" instead of "drink."
What their fuzzy heads felt like resting on my chest, heavy with sleep.
So Lord, if you can't stop time, can you please help me remember? I don't want to forget these sweet babies. Even on the bad days and the crazy days or the days I can hardly see their little faces through my tears. I'll take all the days I can get.