Last night I was sitting on the couch and had a fleeting thought about how fast my boys were growing up, and how quickly it will go (a thought that always saddens me) and for just one second, I had the briefest glimpse in my head of little kid and I dancing, with him as a grown up, at what I assume was his wedding.
It was so real, so crystal clear, so easy to see his adult face and know that I got his adult self right, that I welled up with emotion and sat overwhelmed with tears of joy and sorrow. Just typing about it now has big, fat, involuntary tears rolling off of my face and dripping onto my chest, even though that mental picture of him as a grown-up is already dimming in my head.
Man, motherhood is so damn hard. Forget the day to day drudgery--creating these people and dedicating my very existence to them, knowing that one day that I will have to release them into the world is both beautiful and torturous. I am so incredibly lucky to have them but the passing time feels so unfair and unfortunate.
Why can't it just slow down? Just a bit. I just had these babies.
By the time I actually figure out what I'm doing, it will be over.
I know I have said it about other ages (pretty much everything after 3) and will say it again in the future, but I would keep 6 and 9 forever in a heartbeat. I wouldn't even need a moment to think about it.