I'm feeling a little melancholy today. No, it has nothing to do with the wine I'm drinking. I'm only drinking that because my ass hurts. My ass hurts because I did yard work today, I trimmed bushes and trees and pulled more weeds than I thought one yard could grow, and that is why my ass hurts, therefore, I must drink wine.
Back to my melancholyness ( Is that even a word?) I think I've discovered why I'm fighting so hard against the changing of the seasons. This was the last summer Mo would be a child!!
I want time to slow down, move a little backwards, if at all possible. Each season stretching out endlessly before me to enjoy and savor. This is the year that my baby is hurrying to get behind her. She is rushing headlong into adulthood and I'm standing at the door, her jacket still in my hands wondering what the hell happened.
Please can we slow this down. I want to remember every day of this year. I want to make amazing memories. I want to laugh more and worry less.
Why didn't I enjoy Mo's childhood more. I wish we had finger painted more, sang more silly, made up songs, played in the mud more, got dirty, ate more cookies, read more stories, snuggled more.
Instead I did what I think all mothers do in one way or another, I wished it away.
I can't wait until she sleeps through the night, holds her bottle, feeds herself, walks, talks, dresses herself, goes to school, reads to herself, ties her shoes, the list goes on and on.
I wasn't trying to wish it away. I kept thinking as she was more independent and able to do for herself, I would be able to enjoy her more. That day never came. I was too caught up in being a Mom. Eat your vegetables, do your homework, clean your room, no, you can't wear just your underwear outside to play. I can't play Barbies right now I am- cleaning the house, cooking dinner, reading, watching TV, working on this quilt, too tired.
I want a do over. I want to feel that warm squiggly little kid on my lap, smell her neck, kiss her chubby checks, hold her sticky hands. Does everyone feel like this? I only have one child and I feel like I've missed so much. How do women do it with 2,3,4 even 7?
Mo and I are both typical Type A personalities, over achieving perfectionists who have too many irons in the fire at all times and know that if we want something done right we have to do it ourselves. We are constantly running, I see my baby girl at night when she comes into my room to talk to me when she gets home from a date, work, school activity, whatever.
Can I lay in a hammock with my baby and count the stars? I want to listen to her "when I grow ups" again. Most of all I want to figure out how in the hell the past 17 years flew by and why I didn't pay more attention.