Mayberry is rampant with the voices of spring.
Our neighborhood has no shortage of trees and greenery. Which means that the beautiful blue eggs are literally falling from the trees as the baby birds hatch, bumble bees are dive bombing our heads, and if I wanted to scoop up a bushel of baby rabbits, I would just have to uncover the nearest stump in the back yard.
The other day, I glanced out of the window as a white string about seven feet long, was dropped from the sky. Jamin and I were mid conversation when I froze to watch. At first, I thought I was imagining it, and then I saw a bird land beside it. She swooped down and flew to the tree with it… the bottom half not leaving the ground until she was well up into a far branch. Acrobatic artistry at its finest, we are mesmerized with their diligence and ability. She was using it to build her nest.
And as far as nests are concerned, a blackbird has built its nest in our pool slide.
Inside it.
Of all the places. There was a hole on the underside, and that means said slide to said pool is a little off limits until this nest has graduated. The eggs have hatched, and there’s a cacophony of chirping inside. Each one demanding whatever it is that she brings. The mama bird flits back and forth, but not without peril. The most dangerous of predators wait beneath.
Rigby and Fitz sit underneath the pool slide, hoping for a glance. I swear Fitz climbed two steps up the other day, glaring into the hole, as if she might actually be able to get to the inside. They’re indignant: How dare this bird invade their yard. Fitz barks ferociously, a little more eager of the two, while Rigby just stares. They’re waiting for their chance, and it’s a daily dance… a comedy, really. That a. They think they can catch the mother bird and b. That they’re entertained for hours on end. This bird is faster. She watches, and she distracts. She works hard and she always wins. The dogs are bewildered.
We are endlessly entertained with this daily competition.
Rigby and Fitz certainly sleep well each night. Making weird noises in their sleep, they’re probably chasing the bird.
His shoes are as big as mine now. When I’m doing the laundry, I can slip on his shorts if I want. I tell them daily, I’m putting bricks on your heads, to make them all stop growing. And they laugh. But there’s something about the oldest that has me by the heart.
His teachers sent out an email the other day, and in a jovial closing, it said “In six more weeks, you’ll have a sixth grader!” Thanks guys. I know you mean well, but let’s just calm it down for a flipping hot second. I found the computer screen suddenly hard to read. Now it’s two. Two more weeks.
His graduation will be soon.
We’re on the brink of another stage. Another season of life. And I find myself counting how much time I really have left: Eight more summers.
It sounds like plenty. It feels like plenty. But those numbers are fooling no one.
A few weeks ago, we got together with my family for the weekend. That night, my brother, sister, and I decided to break out a few fun family videos, and torture everyone else with a special viewing. What we thought would be hours of laughter {it was} ended up with a bit of a staring-me-in-the-face, somewhat-painful life moment. There I was, watching my parents via time warp on the other side of the screen. Realizing that in the video, they were younger than me. And that in the next, they were in our life stage.
When I was a child, this felt like forever away.
And here they are now, watching these videos with us like it was yesterday… with five grandchildren. My mom laughs and tells me I’m still a baby. There’s a just-you-wait, tone in her voice.
Every day of my three children’s lives, I’ve tried to breathe it in. Seize the moment. Document funny memories. Remember their laughter and their different phases. Any chance I get, I hold their sweet hands to relish how soft their skin feels. I close my eyes and listen to their voices.
But I think I’ve failed at this. And I know I’m afraid, as silly as it sounds. I need to do this more… or that, I tell myself. The list grows of where I fall short, from motherhood to memory making. More photos. More videos. More moments. More cherishing. NOW. Before his pants are so big, they fall off of me when I put them on {like a total weirdo}.
When do we learn to separate fear from sentimentality? Guilt from the ability to relish? I don’t want my fears or stress to always overshadow life, and my ability to enjoy the ride.
I blinked, and he’s eleven. This summer, twelve. I find myself almost angry that life is so short. When they were babies, people warned me of how fast it goes. In the middle of those sleepless nights, I would nod in agreement, but I really had no idea what they meant. A few years ago, we would sit on the sofa, and he would drool through his paci, and I would pinch his sweet little rolls on those thighs while he giggled. The other night, he came to me and his daddy with a serious question that I was not ready to tackle. Something that I knew was coming, but there it was, anyway.
Staring us straight in the face with this rite of passage, a season is over. The next chapter has been opened.
And on the flip side, we tackled it head on. The litmus test actually went really well. We were kind of surprised and secretly did some high fives, after. We held our breath and waited for the next question. But he was back on to innocence and conversations on Star Wars.
Time is truly fleeting.
When they were born, I knew that theoretically, I had them until they were twenty. Technically, like eighteen, but I say twenty because it sounds better – A nice, rounded off number. I think I can give myself that. It seemed like an eternity away. It’s our job to do the very best we can, before they’re “on their own”.
Before they leave that nest.
Twenty to life.
Because really, one never stops being a parent. Even if that parent thing changes.
I know that it’s a gift, to watch them grow. And I’ll take it for as long as I’m given this gift- I hope for the rest of my days. But double edged swords and such, because it’s also painful. And so there I am, staring that that email from his teachers with tears in my eyes. And also high-fiving Jamin because we’re going to be pretty freaking good at this tweens thing.
So this summer, we will build the best treehouse they can imagine.
We will teach them how to flip into the deep end of the pool.
We will catch those fireflies in little jars and watch them twinkle.
And we’ll dream up the biggest dreams we possibly can while we sit together and watch the stars.
I can’t make time stop. I can’t do more.
But I can be there.
And we’ll swing under the branches while we listen to the cacophony of baby birds, ready to leave their nests. Just as they do each spring. Just like they always have for seasons before us. Hoping that in the meantime, we’re doing the very best.
Twenty to life.
Denise says
So, so good Ashley. And so true. I never thought I would be at the stage I’m in as a mom so quickly. My four are 21, 19, 15, and 14. Next year my baby will start high school, and my oldest will be getting married. Wow. And, yes, the greatest gift you can give them and yourself is to be there. Enjoy every second with those cuties!!
Elle says
my first turned 8 and my second turned 4 and i’m feeling the most tender with this stage right now. it started with moving my oldest’s clothes from the baby hangers to the adult hangers. then, i’m pulling out the hand-me-downs for my youngest and it’s clothes that my oldest wore for kindergarten. gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. too soon!!!
Sara says
Thanks for the tears! And my oldest is home from her 1st year of college, ready to start a kick butt internship. She’s grown so much this year & I’m so proud & impressed with her. But I still only have 4 more years with the other 2 & I know it will be gone in a blink! Yes, the days are long but the years are short. No one truly grasps that until it’s too late. Soak it up Mamas!
CeCe Krajcar says
This was a beautiful post…….
Erica Montgomery says
❤️❤️❤️
Bonnie says
Your mom is right. You will always be her “baby”. My 4 grown children are 41, 39, 36, and 34. They are all married and have children of their own. It’s so hard to believe that my children are grown. I’m So proud of each one of them but in many ways I wish I could go back and have a redo. I feel like I’m a better grandmother than I was a mother. I have so much more time for my grandkids as opposed to having the stress of working to provide for my children when they were growing up, taking them to all of their activities, getting meals on the table, doing laundry, helping with homework, etc, etc, etc.
ashley @ the handmade home says
Yes! I think it can be easy to get caught up in a literal midlife crisis at the stage I am at when those babies get bigger and think that it’s time for another baby. {I’d be open to that but Jamin would throw himself off a cliff and at some point, we have to be able to support said children responsibly, plus taking it easy when they leave the nest won’t be so bad, either} So… I’m just looking forward to being a grandmother ;} HA!
Natalie says
I stumbled across this today and cried thru it. Exactly how I’m feeling put into eloquent writing. My oldest is also in the same stage in life… and I’m totally relating! Just be there for your kids and enjoy the moments yourself too… and hopefully someday when with age my memory tends to fade a bit they will be there to remember with me and we can put all our details together to create wonderful moments!
ashley @ the handmade home says
Amen, Natalie!
Danielle says
Thanks for making me cry. My oldest two are the same age as your older two so I know exactly how you feel… Too old too fast. But now I also have a 2yo and 5week old twins. It helps my perspective during these sleepless nights to remember how fast my older two have grown. Children are precious and I too think the next season will be grand.
ashley @ the handmade home says
YES! Great outlook. It all will be grand, and we just have to embrace it. ;}
Brenda says
Love this.
Bets says
As a mom to six (ages not-quite-30!, 27, 24 — these three were gifted to me, and 19, 16 and 8 — these three I birthed) I’ve had a lot of experience in parenting. I nodded through your blog post “oh yes, I know where she’s going with this. Yup, been there, felt that.” As I expected, I felt a little bit like a wise old crone, having lived through what you’re describing. And yet… towards the end… something I didn’t expect… a hitch in my stomach, a quick clench in my heart, and the tears started pouring down.
I’m here to say that that feeling — that feeling that it’s all going by too fast — it doesn’t stop. It doesn’t matter how old they are, it doesn’t matter that you’ve spent your child-rearing years working from home so that you can spend the absolute most amount of time possible with them, it doesn’t matter that you’ve been a room mom, a soccer mom, a dance mom, squeezing every possible moment out of your day to witness their growth. It doesn’t matter because every single day you look at them and say, “Where did the time go?”
I’m not a wise old crone after all. I have no sage advice to share. The only thing I know how to do is to be as present as I can be, and to love as much as humanly possible.
xoxo
Bets
ashley @ the handmade home says
This honestly makes me feel better. That no matter what you do, you still feel like this. I am so focused on NOT feeling like this. I think… if only money weren’t an issue and I didn’t need to work to support our family, or if only we weren’t so crazy with school stuff and I could keep them all at home… But it just goes by fast, period. So thank you. It’s great to see them grow and flourish, because that’s what they’re supposed to do, and hard also because I want that baby on my hip again. But then not really, because it’s kind of nice to have those deeper relationships. #alltheconflictingemotions I think in some way, everyone struggles with this, no matter where they are in life & motherhood
Bets says
<3
Rachel says
This made me tear up! My firstborn baby is now 19 and I know exactly how it all goes by in the blink of an eye…my last born baby is still a 16 month old baby and I am desperately trying to cherish every second …you expressed this beautifully! Thank you! 🙂
Linda says
What a beautiful tribute. I have 5 rugrats, 3 of which are over 20 now and the last two are 10 and nine respectively. This has made me think of the older three and how much we shared together as a family and the mark it has left on them, essentially turning them into the adults they now are. Now, with these two younger youngin’s, I find myself behaving in a different fashion (different time frame, I guess, demands different parenting methods). I am now an older mom (50’s) raising two very rambunctious pretween boys and I find it more difficult to keep up with them, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still make awesome memories together that they will carry over into their adult years, and hopefully, if I’ve done my job right? They will make awesome memories with their children. Thank you for this sobering and heartwarming article. <3
Kim says
I’m right there with you. He can wear my shoes, probably my pants, and is almost taller than me now. 12 came in March, and I didn’t realize how hard a birthday it was going to be. Why won’t they stop growing? Since we have a four year old, it still seems like all of my kids should be little. I keep forgetting that he’s leading the pack and she’s bring up the rear. 12 year old boys still want to be momma’s baby while trying to drive the car and stay home alone. It’s heartbreaking. Stay little! I hope you make a lifetime of memories this summer, before college starts, because it seems like he’ll be ready for it next year. Thanks for sharing!