Mine, mine, mine

Or alternatively, I am hormonal and weepy and starting to worry about college funds.

Jack is perfect. Everything about him, from his perfectly round head, to his perfect toes, everything is perfect. I am so totally, utterly, completely in love and so very, very happy. And yet, I can’t stop crying.

I can’t stop crying because I know that tomorrow he will be older. He will be bigger. He will be different. And not this. I can see him leaving for college and having kids of his own, even as I hold him tight in my arms and kiss the top of his tiny fuzzy head. And I want so desperately to stop time. To freeze it in a little jar and make it stop going by so quickly.

I find myself getting angry at Jay and Ella because they won’t let me spend all of my time with Jack, breathing in his delicious scent and admiring everything that is so perfect about him. And they are wonderful too. And I know they are growing just as quickly and I love them every bit as much, but they gave me an appreciation for how quickly newborns become babies who become toddlers who become big kids who start kindergarten this fall. Today as I sat in the pediatrician’s waiting room, a woman with a teenage daughter cooed over Jack and reminded me again that “it goes by so quickly” and she remembers bringing home her daughter and how giant her then two-year old son looked suddenly. I could feel my chin quiver. I know it goes by quickly. And I think that sucks.

There are times when I think this will last forever. When the kids are fighting or when Chris is yelling at someone to GET OFF THE TABLE or when Jay is asking for help reaching the glasses or when Ella needs help getting onto the potty. Times when I would kill for a little privacy, when I want a nap or when I need to sit by myself and think my own thoughts. And then I realize what I trade for those moments. And how much I will miss the squabbling, the singing, the pint-sized person running full force into the couch headfirst, the bedtime routine, the helping them do everything as they learn to do it all by themselves. And then I start to cry again, with huge gulping gasps of air and snot bubbles.

Am I hormonal? Sure. Am I a bit sleep deprived? Yes. Am I keenly aware of how fast time passes, especially when you are not paying attention? Absolutely.

All this by saying, if you come to visit us, and I slap your wrist while shouting, “Mine, mine, mine!” as you try to pick Jack up, you have been warned.