My youngest daughter turned 16 not too long ago. Sweet 16! My goodness. Where does the time go? I looked away for a moment and my daughters grew up, like lanky sunflowers sprouting towards the blazing sun. How can she be 16? I remember being 16. Was it really that long ago? And where did my sweet little girls go, dressed in tulle and ballet slippers, clutching their expensive American Girl dolls? Time crashes by, like waves on the sand, washing away the fragile present and replacing it with an uncertain future. What will tomorrow bring? We don’t and can’t know. Such is the nature of life. Motherhood is always changing – indeed a role fraught with both deep joy and deep pain. Often, we don’t know one until we have experienced the other.
‘Mother.’ It’s a powerful title. Mothers have been celebrated since the beginning of time. In many cultures it is the mother figure, not the father, that rules the universe. The ancient Greeks celebrated Gaia, the mother of the mythological Greek Gods. It is the mother who brings forth life in the world – what could be more powerful than that? The mother represents strength and intelligence, but also gentleness and love.
The word ‘mother’ has easily worked its way into our vernacular. We refer to the earth as ‘Mother Earth’. ‘Mother Nature’ is the force controlling nature, the weather, and all living things. Your ‘mother tongue’ is the language you grew up speaking and your ‘motherland’ is the land of your birth. No one can deny the incredible influence mothers have had over the course of history in every country and civilization.
Motherhood means different things to different people. Your perception is molded by your life’s relationships and whether you are a mother yourself. Some women become mothers easily and never give it a second thought. Some must struggle to become mothers, chasing the dream of a child through doctors’ offices and adoption agencies. Still others have it thrust upon them unexpectedly. Regardless of its origins, motherhood is a journey that turns our lives upside down and makes us do and feel things we never expected.
Nothing can prepare you for the moment when a child is placed in your arms – the sudden rush of love and emotion and the awesomeness of the new responsibility in your life. All at once you can’t remember your life before this child arrived. You can’t envision a life without this little person. A once-freewheeling life grows more regimented, simply by necessity. The lights of the city pale next to the draw of the creature comforts of suburbia. Before you know it, you’re a minivan mom, navigating preschools and play dates, and each day of your life tumbles headlong into the next. Where does the time go?
When my children were still quite small, a friend with older children in college came to visit me. She remarked on the many paintings and clay sculptures that adorned the walls and surfaces of my home. I laughed and commented that there would “always be a constant stream of children’s artwork in my home.”
“Oh no,” she corrected me. “It does come to an end.”
I was taken aback for a moment, but my friend was right. My children would eventually grow up and stop giving me handmade creations and drawings. The adorable little misspelled notes would stop. The tooth fairy would end her nocturnal visits and Santa Claus would become a happy memory of years gone by. The very idea brought tears to my eyes. As exhausted as I was from the daily struggle of raising my young children, I loved every minute of it. Like all good things, I thoughtlessly assumed it would go on forever. But I was mistaken.
There’s a song by Luke Bryan called ‘Fast’, that speaks of how quickly life speeds by. “Sixty seconds now seem more like thirty,” he croons, as he sings about his desire to slow things down. The song strikes a chord with me. As we get older, the seasons start to pass with alarming momentum. As winter melts into spring, we can’t help but wonder where the time has gone.
Time seemed to pass at a snail’s pace when we were young and had our hopes and aspirations before us. We daydreamed about growing up and playing with the big kids. Our birthdays couldn’t arrive soon enough. There was always something in the future that beckoned to us until suddenly we were adults, and in a flash, the magic of childhood was gone.
Very often we are so wrapped up in the minutiae of life that we neglect to take note of our present moments. The sands of life gain momentum as they sneak through that hourglass. I don’t want them to slip away unnoticed.
On my birthday and over the holidays, my children often ask me, “Mom, what do you want? What do you need?” I am always stumped. Do I need anything? Not really. But this year, it occurred to me that there IS one thing I would like: the gift of time.
I’d like to take time with each of my children to look into their eyes and tell them I love them, always and forever. I’d like to hear their silly jokes over and over and have them write me funny notes. I’d like them to paint me a picture, scribble a poem, and sing me a song. I’d like to hear about their hopes and dreams. I’d like to wrap them in my arms and whisper in their ears and smell the sweet scent of their skin. I’d like to hold onto a little shred of time with them for just a moment longer, to enjoy the here and the now as fully as I can.
My advice to all mothers, old and young, is this: May you enjoy precious time with your children. Take it, grab it, hold onto it, and love it. Enjoy the present, for it is truly a gift.
Musings of a Super Mom 