Children and the passing of time

If you are a parent, or have a child in your life you really love, how often do you mourn the passing of time?

Is it rarely? Occasionally? Daily? Hourly? I ask how often, not if, because anyone who has fallen in love with a child has had at least a fleeting twinge of sadness over the thievery of time. Personally, I try not to dwell on it, as the realist in me thinks of it as unproductive, but sometimes it will smack me in the face out of nowhere, like it did on Friday when I read this reader comment on Cup of Jo:

“My three kids are 22, 19 and 16, and if I had one wish it would be for the doorbell to ring and for it to be their little selves standing there, at any given age along the way, with overnight bags packed to spend a day or two with all of us. To relive those moments (to scoop up those little faces that I miss!)… well, just thinking about it makes me laugh and get teary every time.”

This comment comes to us courtesy of a reader named Erika, and Erika, I have to say you are severely underselling the emotional impact this little thought experiment can have on an unsuspecting parent, just moseying along through her Friday blog catch-up. When I initially read it, I tiptoed on by, sensing its power but not letting myself linger. It kept popping back into my mind over the next few days, though (more on that below), and by the time I finally relayed the image to John, I was doing it through copiously-flowing tears.

One-week-old baby June in a ridiculously-oversized onesie, tucked under John’s arm.

If you have kids, please – just stop and think about it for a minute. Ten or fifteen years from now, my precious five- or two-year-old climbing up my front steps, ringing the doorbell, and me opening the door to see them standing on the mat, duffel over their shoulder, ready to spend a day or two with John and me? Their little shining face, their favorite outfit?

Picture ushering them in, squeezing them in the biggest hug, sitting them down on the sofa or at the kitchen table and just staring at them with the goofiest smile on your face. Playing their favorite games, eating their favorite foods, doing whatever they want to do with you for as long as they’ll let you. Likely staring at them some more after they fall asleep.

It is quite literally too much for the heart to handle, hence the overflow of tears. Honestly, I sincerely apologize for putting you in a place of such emotion on a Monday morning.

…But now that I have, let’s backtrack for a bit. Because there’s a reason I don’t tend to dwell on these sorts of thoughts. Sure, that’s exactly what I’d do in this alternate-universe scenario. But in real life, I cannot set aside, well, real life to stare at my child 24/7. There are bills to be paid and dishes to be done and even “selfish” things like blogs to be read. Which is why these thoughts often leave me frustrated and dismissive, because what do we DO with them?!

We can’t use them to be lenient parents, catering to our children’s every whim.

We can’t use them to neglect our responsibilities or our own lives, where, coincidentally, time also keeps marching on.

We can’t use them to live in misery, hating each second that passes.

We can’t use them to dread milestone moments, wishing time would just stop.

Head on the pillow, turning all of this over and over one night this weekend (racking my brain for how I could use this emotional outburst productively), I had an idea, and here it is: Fridays are going to be takeout nights for the foreseeable future. Once I pick up the kiddos from school, I will deliberately set aside cooking, dishes, and all other feasible grown-up concerns in favor of doing whatever they want to do with me for as long as they want to, and staring into their faces.

Time is a thief, stealing past versions of ourselves, days, years, millions of happy moments, but time is a generous giver, too. It gives us those years together and the opportunity to use them wisely with every version of our precious people along the way. If nothing else, I hope today’s post sparks a thought of what you might tweak in your own life to do this even more beautifully than you already are.

P.S. Erika concluded her comment by adding that she hopes this is what being a grandparent is like. I think it might be, which is a comforting thought.

P.P.S. I hope you had a happy Valentine’s Day. I’m sad I don’t have a single photo to remember ours by, but it just felt so full of love. It was a really great day.

P.P.P.S. More thoughts on time here, here, and here. I just can’t quit it.