Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Well, it finally happened. I taught Emma how to shave her legs today.  My baby girl.  Wasn't I just holding her down to force her to let me brush her teeth?  Actually, I was, but that's more due to kinesthetic issues than due to age.  I guess a better question is, how did time go so fast?  I feel like I have been sitting still in time, stuck at 25 or 26 years old, but she and Ben and Becca just keep zipping on past me.

My friend, Molly, told a story the other day of a lady saying to her about Molly's newborn baby, "Oh, how sweet.  Time does fly, doesn't it?"  The thing is, right at that moment, when you're trying to get through the grocery store and Ben is screaming "I want my gummies!" and Becca is running dangerously close to the endcap of wine bottles and Emma wants to discuss what she can eat for lunches next year and some lady you used to go to church with wants to talk about how your parents are doing... No, it doesn't "fly."  Time doesn't fly at all, in the thick of those moments.

But, then again, when I watch Ben and Becca sit next to one another on the floor and "read" books, or see Ben riding his bike down the road, or I teach Em about shaving against the direction of the hair (and NEVER sideways)... Yeah, time does fly.  It flies so quickly I'm afraid to blink, for fear they'll leave and I won't have soaked up all the love and joy and laughter and hugs and kisses and hilarious stories that I'll need to keep me satisfied when they're gone on their own journeys.

It's so hard to keep that perspective, when they're bickering, when dinner and dishes need to be done, when I'm confronted with yet another mound of laundry (Seriously, are they changing sets of clothing for each quarter of their day? "This is my mid-day ensemble and I'll be changing at the hour for my stroll along the terrace."  One pair of underwear per day, Ben Hall, that's all ya need!).  It really is a wonderful life (yes, George) and I really do appreciate my family.  I just hope I can keep it all balanced and myself mindful before it's all over.

For now, I will tuck in my mind the picture of Emma, concentrating so hard, trying not to nick herself, going slowly up the shin and over the knee, her literal journey a figurative reminder of climbing the hill to adulthood.  Maybe next time we'll even take off the razor guard.