It’s 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning, and I’m making pancakes for Ender. Because I love him. Even though he got me up at 4:47 a.m.
And somewhere out there in cyberspace is an old crone—er, I mean post-menopausal matriarch—actually, I very specifically mean my Aunt Augusta, and maybe yours too?—who’s tutting at my complaint about my bleary eyes and fuzzy head and saying,
“Treasure EVERY second. One day you will miss those precious moments.”
Well, Aunt Augusta. I now have a teenager whom I can’t rouse out of bed before noon.
And it’s THE BEST THING EVER.
Sure, there are lots of precious moments from Cinder’s earlier and earliest years that I miss acutely and will treasure forever.
Experiencing his wakefulness in a state of comatose-ness at 5 a.m.? Not so much.
Not at all, actually.
Changing diapers, wiping bums? Not one little bit.
I didn’t enjoy, cherish and relish every moment.
And neither will you. (And neither did you, Aunt Augusta, you goddamn hypocrite; your memories are rewritten and you LIE).
And that’s totally ok.
I cherish him. Them.
In sickness and in health. In joy and in “OMFG-are-you-trying-to-drive-me-into-a-madhouse” moments. (Well, not in those moments. But shortly thereafter.)
But some moments, many of them occurring before sunrise, in washrooms, or at meltdown hour just blow goats. And that’s ok. You don’t have to cherish them. You just have to get through them.
xoxo
“Jane”
P.S. This post brought to you by purveyors of fine coffee beans everywhere.
Nothing By The Book 
LOL I feel the same way, kids grow too fast and even though some moments are better than others its having them in your life and seeing them flourish that makes you smile.
And also cry. And scream.
The ‘oh you will miss these moments’ crowd are among my least favorite people who offer their unsolicited parenting advice. It seems that the amnesia of infancyhas more of an impact on parents than many of us care to admit.
It’s how the species perpetuates itself. ;P Yeah, it’s a huge trigger point for me too (obviously).
It’s a really clever bit of evolution in a species that keeps their kiddos around for so long.
Favorite line: “(And neither did you, Aunt Augusta, you goddamn hypocrite; your memories are rewritten and you LIE).” Also, POTTY TRAINING is not to be relished. That is all.
Potty training boys is hell. When you’re done, we can compare notes. I fucked it up twice, got it right once. (Yet all three no longer use diapers, whopee!)
No kids here, but I think I get it, at least on principle. Heck, my writing has gotten me out of bed at 2, 3, 4am, and I still love IT. >_> Doesn’t mean I cherish every moment that this roller-coaster passion of mine puts me through. I love it through those moments, and past them, but I don’t love those moments in and of themselves.
“I love it through those moments, and past them,”–yes. And that’s why you keep on doing it, and will be “successful” (in quotation marks, because we need to operationalize THAT definition) at it. xoxo
Au contraire Ms Nothingbythebook…remember dear Aunt Augusta never had any children of her own but is a FONT and wealth of information about how “one should raise children”. I am bypassing the fine coffee beans and moving straight to the wine.
Good idea. Shiraz?
Yup…make that a magnum! After a magnum of Shiraz nothing the kids can do will affect you. You will sit there smiling benignly as they tear the house apart around you. Good stuff 😉