The days are long, but the years are long too
As someone who’s currently in the midst of the “short” years, I can tell you that it feels like I’ve been a mother for approximately 200 years.
My son turned five this week.
I’ve noticed a trend of parents posting a photo of their kid on social media when it’s their birthday, with a caption along the lines of, “How are you [insert age] already?!” I understand the sentiment. The early years of our kids’ lives are filled with such intensely rapid change. They’re born these tiny, helpless, squishy blobs, and quickly become real humans who say funny things and constantly surprise you as you watch them blossom and grow. Every day I find myself looking at videos of both my boys, and I can’t believe how much they’ve changed in such a short amount of time.
There’s a knee-jerk inclination to watch these videos or stare at my son and react with, “Wow, those five years just went by in a blink of an eye.” Parents are consistently told, “The days are long, but the years are short,” as a reminder to enjoy all the precious moments with our children while they’re still young. But as someone who’s currently in the midst of the “short” years, I can tell you that it feels like I’ve been a mother for approximately 200 years. And I have the dark circles under my eyes to back that up.
I’m simultaneously terrified of time moving too quickly, and frustrated that it isn’t moving quite fast enough.
I can appreciate that when your kid is off to college or getting married, and you scroll through photos of them in diapers, you can’t help but wonder where the time went and how it all seemed to go by so fast. Our memories play tricks on us, often glossing over the many moments of monotony and the daily struggles that punctuate our lives. The highlight reel in our minds becomes a quick, condensed edit of many years gone by.
But the truth is that the newborn/baby/toddler/preschool phase of life is kind of like watching The Ten Commandments, where half-way through, you’re wondering how there’s still so much time left. As much as we attempt to enjoy and savour every minute, the days and weeks (and in our current pandemic era, years) can feel like a slog, as we navigate sleep deprivation, tantrums, potty training, picky eating, and an endless cycle of germs and illness.
I have loved watching my sons develop––my life has been deeply enriched by becoming a parent. But I’m also tired as hell, burnt out, and feel as though I can barely remember what life was like pre-kids. Parenting has been such an all-consuming, exhausting, overwhelming experience that these past several years have felt like both a mad dash, and a never-ending Olympic sport.
I’m simultaneously terrified of time moving too quickly, and frustrated that it isn’t moving quite fast enough. I know better than to ever wish the days or years away, because as far as I know, this one beautiful and messy life is the only one we’re going to get. I don’t want it to all be over in a whiplash-inducing flash. But I also know that this season I’m in, that so many of us are in, is a particularly hard one right now. And five years can feel like five thousand. The mathematics of the passage of time don’t seem to follow any logical formula.
I’m sure one day, I’ll look back on it all and wonder where the time went, and lament the loss of these early years with my kids. For now, though, I find solace that the seasons will change.
I’m sitting here writing, while I stare at my newly-turned five year-old son, gazing at his freakishly long eyelashes, thick mane of hair, his adorable dimple. I’m wrapped up in the sweet sound of his laugh as he bursts into hysterics over whatever silly movie he’s watching. And in this moment, I can enjoy the slowness of it all, wishing he could stay forever as he is right now. Maybe there’s something to be said for these long years after all.
Stray thoughts
My littlest one has been sick for nearly two weeks, has barfed on me multiple times, and woken me up all through the night. These are the times where I’d be very grateful to hit the fast-forward button and welcome the days being over in a “blink of an eye.”
I’m sorry, Gen Z, but I refuse to stop using the laughing-sobbing emoji.
Kids are getting vaccinated! Hopefully in Canada, soon 🇨🇦
