I had to get things done tonight. I got home late from work. Captain's lunchbox wasn't yet unpacked, cleaned out and ready for tomorrow. Laundry to do. Dinner to eat. I told Captain I would be in to sleep with him in five minutes. I watched two episodes of The Young Pope before I got into bed.
He turned and put his hand on my head. Unintentional, I'm sure. He was sound asleep. But all I could think about is how fast all this is going. Everyone says it. It's so different though, to be in it - trying to soak it all up and knowing it's furiously slipping away.
In a few years I won't be able to hold him. His "up please" that he still uses, will disappear. Already I am looking back at two years ago and tear up; I want it back. I want to be able to open up doorways in time and re-live five minutes of a month ago.
How are we supposed to do this? How am I supposed to soak all of this up while working, traveling, being myself, being a wife, being a mom - where do I find time to stop it?
I never quite realized how fast we grow up. It seemed like an eternity when I was the one doing it; but it's exceptionally fast. Infant to baby; baby to toddler; toddler to little kid; little kid that is becoming a little boy. It's like an onion or a snake's skin - he just sheds into these newer, bigger versions. And I"m trying to keep all the remnants of the old and hold them so close, cover myself in them.
Tomorrow night I'll turn the TV off. And we will read as many books as he wants before bed.