Hourglass Half Full
A child is someone who passes through your life, and then disappears into an adult. ~ Author unknownThe quote above is from a magazine clipping my mom's had taped to the inside of our kitchen cupboard for, well... forever. A tiny piece of paper I've brushed by countless times while grabbing pasta bowls and pie plates. I always thought it was simple and nostalgic, but that's pretty much as far as my mind has stretched with those 15 words. Until now, that is. Now those words break my heart.
I have come to the albeit simple realization that I won't ever know again the AJ I knew yesterday. Five years from now, my two-year-old daughter will be seven. It's easy math, for sure, but it's the most difficult of realizations to come to terms with. I have already said goodbye to my newborns. Goodbye to my infants. Pretty soon, my two beautiful, insane monkey children will no longer be toddlers... They'll disappear into kids and then into teenagers (*whoa*), and then into adults. But they will always be my babies.
So there, you see? I am nostalgic, I am a romantic, I cry at those damn Publix commercials right around Thanksgiving time with everyone making toasts to their family and friends, and I want time to stop. all. the. time. There are just too many moments these days to hold onto and not want to let go. I'm a softy and I really and truly fall in love with the little moments. But, you move on. You've got to. Or else you will go insane.
Talking about insanity (Now that's a fun little segway!), there's also a part of me that refuses to be held captive by anything sappy, tugging-at-your-heartstrings, melodramatic, overtly construed for the purpose of making one cry. (Except for those damn Publix commercials. And the HBO movie "In the Gloaming." And "Somewhere in Time." And "Crush" with Andie MacDowell. When she collapses in the school yard from utter despair, I literally sob like a cartoon character. Like a freakish, loud, ponytailed cartoon yelling "WAHHH!!!" and shaking violently. Inconsolable. So embarassing. I should invite someone over to watch it with me to bear witness to the spectacle. No. I shouldn't.)
Anyway, talking about sappy: There is a book called "Love You Forever" by Robert Munsch that creeps the hell out of me. I think I must be the only mom on the planet completely freaked out by this book. Everyone I've talked to about it just loves it and cries when they read it, etc. etc. Uncontrollable sobbing has even been mentioned on more than one occasion when discussing this frightening story about a mother and her son. (Though I'm sure their sobs could never reach the magnitude of Jen's Crush movie sobs.) I just. don't. get it. Here's a mom who rocks her baby to sleep and whispers a little "love you forever" ditty every night, which is very sweet. When she sneaks into his room when he's a toddler, that's sweet, too. I can totally dig it. I stalk my sleeping monkeys nightly. I, however, beg someone to tell me it is not creepy when this same woman drives across town to sneak into her grown son's home (through a window!) and hold him on her lap whispering "love you forever". I beg of you. Will someone tell me why the idea of this shouldn't scare the living daylights out of anyone who reads it?
Great. I just dissed a beloved children's book. I feel... sacreligious. That frightening little book did, however, touch upon the different stages of one's life and the heartache that attaches itself to the passage of time. Also the focus of my most recent rental, "The Time Traveler's Wife." And time (rather, the efforts to erase it) is also an underlying theme in the stellar "Real Housewives" series. God, I love that show...
All-righty, then! Thank you, blog post, for today's therapy session. I've come to the conclusion that I need to switch my focus from the sands of time over to the sands of Sanibel. I need to stop obsessing over the minutes and concentrate more on the moments. And I need to stop wasting time by watching the housewives and their plastic surgeries. (Well, not making any promises on that one...)