I don't really care for it, unless it's bittersweet.
Watching kids grow up is excruciatingly slow sometimes, and hurricane-level speed in the next moment. I've always heard this, but now that I'm experiencing it, I may have to call FEMA.
Sydney just turned 8. It's a tiny number. She's in second grade, and in my memory, being in second grade reminds me of feeling little. However, it seems like all of a sudden Sydney is not little, but a very small, very bossy, capable woman, and not a little girl anymore. My usual hyperbole aside, I search her face for the baby that I grew inside of me every single day. It's so confusing to feel sad that she's growing into such a healthy (and tall) girl. I cannot reconcile this sense of...grief, I suppose, that I have such a wonderful child, but at the expense of my wonderful baby. This makes zero sense to my head, and in the words of M'Lynn Eatenton, "I just wish someone would explain it to my heart!"
I feel this way about both children, and then I go on this self-harassing mental tirade, cursing myself for not taking a picture of their little faces EVERY SINGLE DAY so I could somehow assimilate that into a tangible change, so I wouldn't feel like I was losing someone. Now, don't get me wrong, I take pictures and videos of these idiots (human and canine) constantly, but it feels like not enough.
Wait a minute.
Is this what getting old feels like?!? Because if anything can make me feel old, it's these children.
Is that what I'm feeling??
Maybe the sadness is really just feeling bummed that I can't rewind and do it all over again, not because I would change a SINGLE thing, but because it is such an awesome, thrilling, joyful ride (peppered with screams and terror).
Do you get existentially wise in your old age? Because this must be what is happening. Wisdom...it's a new sensation. And somewhat tiring to possess, I'm finding. Look! There it is again! More wisdom! (Note to self: re-read this post when you spend 10 minutes looking for shoes that you are already wearing. Wisdom! Ha!)
Anyway, my best friend is approaching the due date of her first-born, a boy, near the end of the month. I've restrained from dumping all of these thoughts on her, because she probably knows all of these things already (she's very wise). As a new parent I gobbled up any information I could find on parenting, babies, development, and eagerly awaited each new stage, equipped with my comfortable knowledge. The thing that was missing in all of those books and articles and blogs was how heart-breakingly WONDERFUL, and agonizingly beautiful it is to survive all of those stages and have an independent and incredible little person in your life. There is no preparing your heart for that, and I'm sure that I will continue to feel this way for the rest of my life.
One negative side-effect is that I can barely watch one of my favorite movies, Steel Magnolias, anymore because it all hits so close to home now that I have my own precious Sydney-Shelby.
Watching kids grow up is excruciatingly slow sometimes, and hurricane-level speed in the next moment. I've always heard this, but now that I'm experiencing it, I may have to call FEMA.
Sydney just turned 8. It's a tiny number. She's in second grade, and in my memory, being in second grade reminds me of feeling little. However, it seems like all of a sudden Sydney is not little, but a very small, very bossy, capable woman, and not a little girl anymore. My usual hyperbole aside, I search her face for the baby that I grew inside of me every single day. It's so confusing to feel sad that she's growing into such a healthy (and tall) girl. I cannot reconcile this sense of...grief, I suppose, that I have such a wonderful child, but at the expense of my wonderful baby. This makes zero sense to my head, and in the words of M'Lynn Eatenton, "I just wish someone would explain it to my heart!"
I feel this way about both children, and then I go on this self-harassing mental tirade, cursing myself for not taking a picture of their little faces EVERY SINGLE DAY so I could somehow assimilate that into a tangible change, so I wouldn't feel like I was losing someone. Now, don't get me wrong, I take pictures and videos of these idiots (human and canine) constantly, but it feels like not enough.
Wait a minute.
Is this what getting old feels like?!? Because if anything can make me feel old, it's these children.
Is that what I'm feeling??
Maybe the sadness is really just feeling bummed that I can't rewind and do it all over again, not because I would change a SINGLE thing, but because it is such an awesome, thrilling, joyful ride (peppered with screams and terror).
Do you get existentially wise in your old age? Because this must be what is happening. Wisdom...it's a new sensation. And somewhat tiring to possess, I'm finding. Look! There it is again! More wisdom! (Note to self: re-read this post when you spend 10 minutes looking for shoes that you are already wearing. Wisdom! Ha!)
Anyway, my best friend is approaching the due date of her first-born, a boy, near the end of the month. I've restrained from dumping all of these thoughts on her, because she probably knows all of these things already (she's very wise). As a new parent I gobbled up any information I could find on parenting, babies, development, and eagerly awaited each new stage, equipped with my comfortable knowledge. The thing that was missing in all of those books and articles and blogs was how heart-breakingly WONDERFUL, and agonizingly beautiful it is to survive all of those stages and have an independent and incredible little person in your life. There is no preparing your heart for that, and I'm sure that I will continue to feel this way for the rest of my life.
One negative side-effect is that I can barely watch one of my favorite movies, Steel Magnolias, anymore because it all hits so close to home now that I have my own precious Sydney-Shelby.
Shelby: You know what you need in here, Truvy. You need a radio. Music is a wonderful thing to have in the background and it takes the pressure off of people who feel they
[looks at M'lynn]
Shelby: *have to talk so much.*
Truvy: I used to have one, but I slammed it against the wall when I couldn't figure where the batteries went. I know now that I was suffering from pre-menstruatal syndrome.
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