Last night, I dreamed that I went to get Henry up in the morning, and he was about 8 years old, lying in his crib. Not to be melodramatic, but it sure does seem like he's growing fast enough for that to be possible..... well, OK, maybe not exactly like the dream, but seriously, this kid will be 6 months old tomorrow and he's wearing 12 month pajamas and eating us out of house and home. Is this what having a boy means? Holy cow!
His official checkup will be coming up soon, and I'm nervous that we'll find out he has exceeded the weight limits of his infant car seat... it's possible, people! What a strange Yin and Yang he and his sister are. I mean, Sister weighed just over 17 pounds until she was almost 18 months old, and I'm sure he's closing on 20 pounds right now.
When I was about ten years old, I have a very clear memory of my mom telling me- in response to me complaining that something anticipated was too far away- that when you're a kid, time seems to pass by very slowly, and the older you get, the faster it seems to pass. I remember thinking, that doesn't make sense. Oh, how I've realized how right she was... is!
Unfortunately, she didn't follow her observation with a solution to make it slow down. The only thing I've found that works is trying with all your might to live in the moment as much as you can (and my oh my is this easier said than done). When I stop thinking and worrying and planning for the hour or day or weekend coming up, and just be with my kiddos in their moment, my time melds with their time like some Peter Pan effect, and the day seems to hold so much more quality.
Naturally, this can't happen all the time (that's what being a grown-up does to ya, aw), but I look for the chance to make it happen as frequently as I can, hopefully with camera handy. That way, as my dream reveals itself in my reality, I can save and savor these little people at every opportunity.
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