footie pajamas
sweaty hair
sleepy eyes
diaper bums
stubby-toothed smiles
untamed hair
noodles in the bathwater
uncoordinated claps
stained Ts
tiny lips
and eyelashes
and fingernails
Friday, August 23, 2013
353 Days
Today is less than two weeks shy of Nehemiah's first birthday.
Beside the typical shock and disbelief of a year come and gone, this week has hit me like a ton of bricks and released the floodgates of emotion. Theres been times where I sit and hold all 19 pounds of my little boy, recalling vague memories of what it was like to cradle the shy-of-six-pounds version.
As I packed away his six month sized clothes last week (he may be shrimpy, but at least he's fitting in nine month sized clothes now. Small victories, people.), I couldn't help but feel so nostalgic over each article of clothing. He'll never go backward; this growing and becoming of Nehemiah will continue until forever comes. And did I cherish it enough? Was I present enough? Did I give enough, do enough, love enough? Day by day his infancy slips through my fingers, seemingly faster and faster.
And there are moments when I almost feel like time stands still — times when I remember to take a mental picture to hold on to forever. Times when the scraps of breakfast that litter the high chair and floor make me smile instead of frustrated, when the dirty laundry just reminds me of the fun that accompanied the mud-crusted onesie, when Little One's laughing and giggling totally erases the hours of crying and whining that ensued before. But did I do that enough? Did I appreciate more than frustrate? Did I wish the time away by eagerly waiting for the next, newest stage? By thinking, "I can't wait until he..."? Sometimes, its so easy for myself to get lost in these what-ifs and should-haves.
But then I read incredibly insightful, laughably accurate writing like this:
Steve Wiens | To the parents of young children: Let me be the one who says it ouloud | The Actual Pastor
And then I remember, we survived one year. The first year of parenthood. One crazy, life-changing, roller coaster year and all it had to offer. Sleepless nights and tears and E.R. trips and poopsplosions and the growing of teeth. We've had the pleasure (albeit, occasionally unpleasureable experience) of standing back and watching Nehemiah grow a little more into the person he is to become. We've gotten to participate a small amount in the forming of a 353 day-old person and enjoy the blossoming of the personality to match. And surviving, let alone enjoying it is a feat worth celebrating.
Focusing on the should've could've would've's (was that as awkward to read as it was to type?) is a hopeless cause that only ends in regret and disappointment. The fact is, we're all just human. We take things a day at a time and learn as we go. We have made more mistakes than we're willing to admit and are just glad that Nehemiah's hippocampus isn't developed enough to remember it.
So here's to one year come and gone. One year, with enough Instagrams and blog posts and journal scrawlings to at least jog the memories of the gone-too-soon moments. The good, the bad, the ugly — it's over. One year. And there's no revising it. So, I suppose there's nothing left to do but grab our party hats and cupcakes and celebrate.
Beside the typical shock and disbelief of a year come and gone, this week has hit me like a ton of bricks and released the floodgates of emotion. Theres been times where I sit and hold all 19 pounds of my little boy, recalling vague memories of what it was like to cradle the shy-of-six-pounds version.
As I packed away his six month sized clothes last week (he may be shrimpy, but at least he's fitting in nine month sized clothes now. Small victories, people.), I couldn't help but feel so nostalgic over each article of clothing. He'll never go backward; this growing and becoming of Nehemiah will continue until forever comes. And did I cherish it enough? Was I present enough? Did I give enough, do enough, love enough? Day by day his infancy slips through my fingers, seemingly faster and faster.
And there are moments when I almost feel like time stands still — times when I remember to take a mental picture to hold on to forever. Times when the scraps of breakfast that litter the high chair and floor make me smile instead of frustrated, when the dirty laundry just reminds me of the fun that accompanied the mud-crusted onesie, when Little One's laughing and giggling totally erases the hours of crying and whining that ensued before. But did I do that enough? Did I appreciate more than frustrate? Did I wish the time away by eagerly waiting for the next, newest stage? By thinking, "I can't wait until he..."? Sometimes, its so easy for myself to get lost in these what-ifs and should-haves.
But then I read incredibly insightful, laughably accurate writing like this:
There are people who say this to me:
“You should enjoy every moment now! They grow up so fast!”
I usually smile and give some sort of guffaw, but inside, I secretly want to hold those people under water. Just for a minute or so. Just until they panic a little.
If you have friends with small children — especially if your children are now teenagers or if they’re grown – please vow to me right now that you will never say this to them. Not because it’s not true, but because it really, really doesn’t help.
We know it’s true that they grow up too fast. But feeling like I have to enjoy every moment doesn’t feel like a gift, it feels like one more thing that is impossible to do, and right now, that list is way too long. Not every moment is enjoyable as a parent; it wasn’t for you, and it isn’t for me. You just have obviously forgotten. I can forgive you for that. But if you tell me to enjoy every moment one more time, I will need to break up with you.
Steve Wiens | To the parents of young children: Let me be the one who says it ouloud | The Actual Pastor
And then I remember, we survived one year. The first year of parenthood. One crazy, life-changing, roller coaster year and all it had to offer. Sleepless nights and tears and E.R. trips and poopsplosions and the growing of teeth. We've had the pleasure (albeit, occasionally unpleasureable experience) of standing back and watching Nehemiah grow a little more into the person he is to become. We've gotten to participate a small amount in the forming of a 353 day-old person and enjoy the blossoming of the personality to match. And surviving, let alone enjoying it is a feat worth celebrating.
Focusing on the should've could've would've's (was that as awkward to read as it was to type?) is a hopeless cause that only ends in regret and disappointment. The fact is, we're all just human. We take things a day at a time and learn as we go. We have made more mistakes than we're willing to admit and are just glad that Nehemiah's hippocampus isn't developed enough to remember it.
So here's to one year come and gone. One year, with enough Instagrams and blog posts and journal scrawlings to at least jog the memories of the gone-too-soon moments. The good, the bad, the ugly — it's over. One year. And there's no revising it. So, I suppose there's nothing left to do but grab our party hats and cupcakes and celebrate.
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