Written by: Suzanna Palmer June 05 2012 Confession: This week […]
Written by: Suzanna Palmer June 05 2012
Confession: This week I have been an emotional wreck. Maybe it’s because Jacob got his first top tooth, or because we finally moved him out of our room and into his nursery—so much easier to write than to do, btw!—or, heck, maybe it’s just because it’s that time of the month. For whatever the reason, I am a great big blob of motherly sentimentality lately.
Though Jacob’s not even eight months old, I have been overwhelmed by the sense that his babyhood is almost at an end. (The feeling first hit me when I discovered him standing up in his crib a couple of weeks back.) It feels like sand slipping through my fingers and gives me a desperate urge to freeze time. Knowing that every second that goes by means my little bundle is that much older—and I can’t do a thing about it—makes me feel like I’m going a little crazy.
And, maybe I am, but when I look at my sweet little guy, I can’t help but wish that he could stay that way forever. (Especially in those too-perfect moments when he rests his head on my shoulder before finally falling into sweet slumber.) This whole subject reminds me of a moment from my childhood that has been tucked away in my memory for years. I was nine or ten years old. It was December and my mom and I were sitting on our living room couch watching lights dance across the Christmas tree. She quietly said, “These are the best days of our lives.” Even at such a young age, I got the same urge then that I do now—a desperate desire to stay in that moment forever.
Of course, perfect as the moment was, there was an upside to moving on. If it hadn’t, I would never have made it to college, or my wedding, or Jacob’s birth. Not to mention I’d still have pyramid bangs and be wearing a tacky Christmas sweater.
Also, I know that no matter how wonderful a single moment is that there are all sorts of other experiences and memories I would be missing out on if time didn’t march on. So, I am doing my best to cherish each moment and tuck them away inside. Jacob won’t stay small forever, but I will always have my collection of sweet memories. And, that’s at least one place where he will never grow old.