On how quickly it all happens.


A is teething. Already. It blows my mind, honestly. I hate to sound cliche but it seems like just yesterday that he was born, so small and fragile and delicate.

Because of occurrences like this, I become easily amazed at how quickly growing up happens. Before A was born (and before I was even married, for that matter), I was obviously aware that growing up was just something that “happened.” As an 18-year-old college freshman/barista, I honestly never took the time to sit back and wonder how my life happened to be happening.

I let myself grow up in one big blur and am only now retrospectively appreciating what growing up entails.

One of the side effects of parenthood is living in an extreme wash of sentiment and nostalgia. Not in the sense that you ever regret having your child, or wish you could again do all of the stupid things you did when you were younger…the sentiment and nostalgia just rear their ugly heads and push out memories & experiences that you had totally forgotten were beautiful & special & miraculous in their own ways.

I feel like I’m rambling. I say all of this because I am purely overwhelmed with being overwhelmed. Not only is my soul aching to remember every detail of the significant moments of my “growing up,” but I am aching to remember absolutely everything I can about my son’s “growing up.”

"…let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. Let me be gay; let me be sad. Let me be cold; let me be warm. Let me be hungry…have too much to eat. Let me be ragged or well-dressed. Let me be sincere - be deceitful. Let me be truthful; let me be a liar. Let me be honorable and let me sin. Only let me be something every blessed minute. And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost."