Time....

As I quickly approach my 39th year, I've been reflecting on many things about what 39 years actually is. Sound philosophical? God help me, I've become one of those people who reflect...on everything.

For example: My children! Ryan will be turning 7 on Sunday. Wasn't it just yesterday I was crying in my husbands arms because we weren't pregnant yet? Wasn't it just last week we drove to Halifax to see the fertility specialist down there and they said there was no way we'd ever get pregnant unless we did IVF? No...it was a lifetime ago. Ryan's lifetime. My oldest baby is going to be 7 and for some reason, I'm having difficulty with this. I've been struggling with the growing up process where both children are concerned and instead of celebrating every mile-stone, I dread them and indeed, mourn more the loss of my beautiful infant boys. I so enjoyed the infant stage. That's not to say I'm not enjoying them now, but I loved the simplicity of that stage. All was right with them. They were protected by their mum and their dad. No one could hurt them. No one could make them feel bad about themselves. I loved that.

Now they are out there, meeting new people and absorbing all that they bring with them-good and bad. I cannot choose their friends, nor can I choose who they want to admire or emulate. Perhaps it's a control issue with me...I have been told that people think I want to be in control, though I don't see it. I just want people to be nice to each other, I don't want people to be stupid, and I want everyone to be happy. Anyway, as I as saying, these little creatures that I take no credit in creating for they were gifts from God are becoming their own little people, with their own likes and dislikes, their own ideas, feelings, fears and dreams. Nurturing their lives is an exercise in humility for me. I so want them to be vibrant, well adjusted people who are sure of themselves and are ready to face what life and all its cruelties throw at them. I guess time will tell if I've done well.

In the meantime, I go through my daily routines exhausted. Not only because I put in a full 8 hours at home before I go to work for 3:30 and put in another 8 hours. But because in my down time...the time I'm suppose to be sleeping and resting is when my Sean decides he wants his "mumma" and crawls in bed with me at the ungodliest hours. He's soft, he's warm, he's cuddly, I love the smell of his head ... and he still needs me. There will be days ahead when his crawling in bed with me will no longer be an issue and my sleeplessness will come not from him kicking me or poking me in the eye while he sleeps millimeters from me, but from waiting to hear the car door close, the key in the door, his footsteps down the hall to his bedroom and knowing that my child is safely home.

Jim Croce said it best: "If I could save time in a bottle..."