I’m Not Alright With The Growing Up Thing

Prior to entering the room, it never occurred to me that Kendall’s pre K recital was going to make me question my journey through motherhood. I thought I’d show up, take some pictures, they’d sing some songs, and we’d go have ice cream after it’s done. Just like we’ve done every year.

Except this year is the last year because next year he’s going to be in Kindergarten.


And suddenly, it hit me- that train that I thought wasn’t going to catch up to me. The one I thought I’d been smart enough to stay one step ahead of. The one that knocked me on my ass and reminded me, “YOU ARE NOT IN CONTROL OF TIME.”

No amount of picture taking or memory making can stop your kid from growing up. No amount of blogging about how much you know they are going to grow up, no amount of acknowledging that you can’t freeze time makes it feel ok to not be able to freeze time.

You know what? I’m really not alright with this growing up thing. I’m not cool with the turning 5 and going to Kindergarten part. I’m not okay with knowing I’ve wished away so much of the last 5 years. I tried to stop myself from doing that when he was a newborn…

I know I’ve spent more than my fair share on here complaining in some way or another, and I’m really not writing this to sugar coat things.  The fact remains that the last 6 weeks have been TOUGH in a lot of ways, but as I started packing tonight for our big move to Dallas next week I couldn’t help but get a little sad.  My baby is six weeks old.  He will never be younger than this again.  He will never be smaller than this again.  He’s growing so much already…  So I write this to remind myself and anyone else out there in the bowels of newborn hell to stop and TRY to enjoy it, even if it’s only for the brief moments throughout the day that he is not crying and not demolishing my breasts.  Looking back, it scares to think how quickly the last six weeks have gone (although they seem like a lifetime too in some ways).  Although I’m exhausted 90% of the time and frustrated 50% of the time, I don’t want to wish away these precious days.  I surely will never get them back.

But the overwhelmed waves washed over me time and time again. Just get through this stage. Just get past this age. Just get beyond this milestone. I wished and I wished for things to be easier, knowing full well it’s not that they ever get easier. They just become a different kind of difficult.

And I write this knowing that I’ll never be able to stop myself from wishing away days, moments, stages, ages. Because I’m human.

That is really what’s getting to me here. I know, no matter what I would have done over the last five years, no matter how many more special outings I would have taken him on, no matter how many more crafts I made with him or books I read to him, I would still have regrets.

Parenting is a human experience. Remember, Jill? 

It’s the regrets, I think, that make it hard to give into time passing.

It’s knowing I’m going to continue to make mistakes, and that there’s no pressing the pause button. There are no do-overs. There’s no way to take anything back. And what happens between now and 13 years from now is going to matter so much.

Blink. He’s one.

Blink. He’s five.

Blink. He’s gone.

50 Things to Do Before You Deliver: The First Time Moms Pregnancy Guide
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  1. Time seldom ever takes prisoners. I don’t have kids yet but I know it’s going to go by too fast just like everything else. Hey I was wondering if you received my e-mail? I contacted you regarding the mom who’s house burnt down. I just wanted to let you know that I’m a real person and not nearly as creepy as probably seems to be emailed by me 😉 I know you are probably terribly busy as I see you are working on the house, you’re pregnant, apparently your eldest is graduating preschool and that doesn’t count the rest of life that demands your attention. Just thought I’d drop in and ask.

  2. hi! this has nothing to do with this post but how on earth do you fill your squooshies? I just got mine and poured a smoothie in and it was a disaster, how would a thicker consistency, like applesauce, work? there’s gotta be a trick to it!?

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