5,648 Days

Last night, while lying awake in bed waaaay too late, I was thinking about how fast it all goes.

How the days are long but the months and years and so so so unbearably short.

In 5,648 days, my son will become a legal adult.

It’s not enough.

Things have been exhausting lately. Tantrums and trying to figure out how to discipline without being mean or negative or too harsh. Wanting him to know he is loved no matter what, while balancing this little thing called My Sanity.

So, in those hard moments, I am trying to remember that our time with them is limited. That my son has already changed so much in the 926 days that I’ve been fortunate enough to have him in my life. He no longer falls asleep on my chest (or can fit on it, for that matter) and he is very independent and I miss having him sleep with me in bed.

But he still likes to hold my hand and fiddle with my fingers, and climb on me, and grabs my face to kiss it, and sometimes even lets me carry him up or down the stairs. Soon he’ll be too heavy for that, or will roll his eyes at the thought, or not want to kiss me (or let me kiss him). He won’t long for my touch the way he does now, the comfort it brings him to reach over and know that I’m still here. He fell asleep in my arms the other night, heavy in my lap but so comforting and warm and sweet. I wanted to hold him all night. It can be hard to let go.

My sweet little Greta puts it all into perspective. It’s going even faster this time around. She’s almost 6 months old already. Just 182 days old… but she already fights those snuggly chest snuggles that Grant kept for well over a year (they are SO different sometimes). It’s almost time to start solids; the first step toward not needing me for sustenance. But she doesn’t like to sleep without me. Sometimes it’s very frustrating. And then I think of Grant, and how he no longer sleeps with my arm draped over him, and how soon she won’t either.


This time is precious. I know it’s not practical to “enjoy every minute,” like we are told by so many to do. And we shouldn’t feel bad or guilty about those times when we are tired and stressed and all touched out and just need a break. Because this parenting thing isn’t for faint of heart. It is HARD.

But damn… it goes fast. We get 18 years, and even those aren’t a guarantee. It’s an amazing journey that is way too short. More often than not, we need to enjoy the ride.


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