The Passage of Time

When did I become that older mom? I was speaking to a "young mom" of a toddler today, and musing about babies, and loving babies, and looking back fondly at that time of life. She said "well, you probably don't remember how hard it is." And it hit me. To her, I couldn't possibly relate to what she was going through because I am so much older than her. 

As always in life, perspective doesn't hit you until you're looking at it in the rearview window.

I remember being in my 20's just a few years out of college, thinking the women I worked with who were in their mid-30's with young kids were impossibly old. I remember being a young mom and thinking the same thing, that the moms of teenagers were ancient dinosaurs. How could their two cents about babies and child-rearing have any bearing on me, a young mom?

And now, that's me. How did I get here? In so many ways, I feel like that 22-year-old, just out of college. Or a 31 year old first-time mom. And like life, and time,  it seems like a thousand years ago and just yesterday that I held my baby in my arms, chased a squirmy toddler into bathtime, or watched in pride as my five-year-old entered the kindergarten classroom for the first time. 

As I watch the seemingly endless Facebook posts with pictures of proms, and graduations, with Throwback Thursday pics of our babies, and read blog post after blog post about "Empty Nests" and "How to Adjust to your Child Going to College" I know I am not alone.

And I look with new eyes at my beautiful 86-year-old mother, and wonder what her heart holds. She too, remembers cuddling her babies, and the days and many years when her world was centered around her small children. She too, feels like those days are so long ago, and just yesterday. 

Written June 2016

My girl, spring 1999.