Our son turned 12 yesterday and all I’ve been thinking about
is where has the time gone?
I’ve been busy being busy -- that's where it's gone.
Life these past 12 years -- the years since I became a parent and embarked on a professional writing career -- have been an endless blur of taking on new responsibilities and the stress that comes along with them.
Life these past 12 years -- the years since I became a parent and embarked on a professional writing career -- have been an endless blur of taking on new responsibilities and the stress that comes along with them.
How I wish I could go back and talk to my younger self
during those first early years of motherhood and say -- enjoy enjoy enjoy every
single fucking minute. Hold squeeze giggle play tag make silly faces moo like a
cow and run in the surf in your JEANS -- scream hello MOON! And goodnight SUN! sing
sing sing at the top of your lungs regardless of what song it is or if you can
even carry a tune -- stop to look at ants -- let the laundry pile up -- eat
cake for breakfast -- make rocket ships to the moon out of cardboard boxes -- hang onto to every broken toy and ripped book -- let
Barney play without cringing -- in fact learn all the fucking words to the Barney song
and sing it at the top of your lungs -- snuggle -- tickle and stay in bed or
play hide and seek -- even if it means being late to school -- even if it means
missing a day of school -- put down your cell phone -- get your face out of the
computer -- stop thinking about work the minute you walk through the front door
-- shake off whatever happened during the day and STOP.
Stop and look into their eyes. Stop and listen to whatever the fuck your kid wants to say -- even if you’ve heard the story 20,000 times before. Fiercely guard your weekend time with your family and DO NOT WORK if you can help it -- love love love LOVE the fact that you are a parent -- CAN be a parent and GET to live with these little scamps that smell like toothpaste and grass and mud and sweat and playdough and chocolate and pee. Selfishly prioritize your every waking moment with your children and above all else -- on their 12th birthday -- call them BABY even if they groan, then MAKE them let you hug them tight -- so tight they can’t breathe -- then give them a piece of cake and make them watch Elmo with you.
Stop and look into their eyes. Stop and listen to whatever the fuck your kid wants to say -- even if you’ve heard the story 20,000 times before. Fiercely guard your weekend time with your family and DO NOT WORK if you can help it -- love love love LOVE the fact that you are a parent -- CAN be a parent and GET to live with these little scamps that smell like toothpaste and grass and mud and sweat and playdough and chocolate and pee. Selfishly prioritize your every waking moment with your children and above all else -- on their 12th birthday -- call them BABY even if they groan, then MAKE them let you hug them tight -- so tight they can’t breathe -- then give them a piece of cake and make them watch Elmo with you.
