Yesterday I watched as an empty water slide emptied into an empty pool – proof that summer is coming to an end. (But there should be so much left!)
I wonder if the pool feels sad when all the kids return to school? I know I would.
And yet I spent half this summer wishing it away:
Too hot. Too many mosquitoes.
Too much work and all the kids want is to play – not with each other, but only with me.
Too much togetherness and mama needs a break.
Enter end-of-August mommy guilt.
Because now I sit, with one week before school starts, feeling the sting of regret, and I want to turn back the clock with my littles. Can I get a do-over? Because 7 and 5 are as fleeting as their summer brown skin. And I won’t be their everything forever.
Of course, I know this. I know in my bones that the clock is ticking. So why do I allow myself to be so distracted by so many things when I should be focused squarely on them? There’s the big stuff, of course, like work, like friends, like community commitments and true self-care and tending to life’s emergencies that never fail to crop up. (Aka, real life.) But then there’s the little things that, honestly, I’d rather do without: Gossip. Procrastinating. Multi-tasking to the point of being completely ineffective. And, would you believe I just shooed my little one away because I was engrossed in a Wikipedia article on area codes?! (In my defense, it was fascinating.)
And, while I haven’t been looking, my little girls suddenly aren’t so little anymore. They can climb rock walls. They can score soccer goals. They can read books and tell me to Google Katy Perry’s new song. They can have intelligent conversations and cut up their own food and put themselves back to sleep after they’ve had a bad dream. They can make me feel better when I’ve had a bad dream.
They’re growing at warp speed and I’m just trying to hang on for the ride. And I know it’s only going to go faster.
My best girlfriend is sending her oldest off to college this month while I’m sending my baby to kindergarten. She’s crying because something’s finally over; I’m crying because I feel like the slow walk toward the empty nest is just beginning. My husband loves watching our girls grow older and become more independent; I want to feed them magic cookies to keep them this age forever. I’m not ready for sass, or boys, or bad influences, or driver’s licenses, or broken hearts, or drugs, or… or… or…. I mean, I’ve been a teenage girl and I am NOT looking forward to experiencing those years from the parent’s perspective.
I’m actually a little surprised at my ability to get so worked up over something that’s several years away; usually I keep a more “here/now” kind of outlook. Perhaps it was PMS talking, but those were the things I saw reflected back at me in the empty pool yesterday. Or maybe it wasn’t, and I’m stressing because it really is inevitable.
So, I’m giving myself the only advice I can think of in a situation like this: SLOW THE FUCK DOWN, GIRL. Remember your priorities. Do one thing at a time – and when you do it, dial it a solid 90%. (Because you know the extra pressure that comes with that 110% baloney will earn you nothing but grief. Or an ulcer. Or a(nother) nervous breakdown.)
And I’m praying, with the realization that there is no magic cookie and no turning back the clock and no lifetime supply of kid-size bubble wrap or negativity shield or innocence preserver: Universe, give me the forethought and discipline to be more present with my two baby birds – for they are everything to me.
And all we have is the moment in front of us.
