Having kids is such a weird thing. Somehow it’s obvious and expected, yet still incredibly unbelievable that these two boys are mine. They’re night and day different – one: brilliant, thoughtful, creative, tender-hearted, and individual; the other: determined, stubborn, wild, loyal, and expressive – but they’re mine. These two little boys were handed to me; pink, screaming and full of opinions and will.
I follow them through life; watching them, helping them, and trying my best to guide them into becoming better people than I am – just like my mother did for me, and her mother before her. I know that it’s only in these early years that we are able to lay the stepping stones that they will eventually use to start on the paths of their own lives. But it goes so fast.
When I was little, I remember my mom and dad saying, ‘Enjoy it now, time goes so much faster the older you get.’ And I remember rolling my eyes and thinking, ‘Good, cause this is taking forever’. There was always something to count down to: summer break, Christmas, birthdays, etc. Adulthood couldn’t show up fast enough!
But now… I’m starting into my thirties with two kids of my own. And I cringe at how fast they’re ‘growing up’. There is so much I want to teach them, and show them, and do with them still.
Life is what you make of it. I want them to know that. I want them to know that they have the ultimate power to decide what their lives become, to be happy, to pursue their dreams and to “be the captain of their own destinies”. It just feels like it’s going so fast and I don’t have enough time to play with my babies… cause let’s face it, that stage of my life is already over.