I am having a hard time reconciling the fact that Owl will be a year old on Friday. It’s not so much that I am mourning the passage of time. On the contrary, I enjoy its progression forward, as each day brings me an opportunity to know a more developed, more interesting, more “growing into oneself” child.

At the same time, stop please, just for a second, so that I may catch my breath. Last night, as I was holding Owl in the bed, I was thinking of how much more room he takes up in my lap. Last December, he was this tiny thing that fit snugly in my arms. Now, he is this big thing that splays across my lap and spills onto the bed. All in the course of one little year. He walks, sort of. He talks, sort of. All these changes that occur when I am paying attention, and sometimes, when I am not.

I always lay with my children as they fall asleep. Call me an enabler. Call me a bad mother for not teaching them to sleep on their own. Call me selfish, if you will. But I love nothing more than to be there at the end of my child’s day and hold their hand as it comes to a close and they drift off to sleep. I use it as my time to relax, reflect and wind down. I use it to just be. OK, sometimes I read. But often I just lay there, in the quiet and the dark, and think. Last night I was thinking that life moves like the end of a film reel at times. Have I talked about this before? Sometimes I can’t remember what I talk about on this blog. It’s like when you get to the end of an old film reel – the kind that documented my youth. A celluloid version that looks nothing like the digital version now capturing the experiences of the boys. At the end of the film, you would always have to click the knob back to respool the film. And it would start to move backwards, increasing in speed until it reached the very end, when it would start to flap about wildly. Some days, that is how it feels to be parenting the boys. So fast that the images are blurry to the eye and flapping about madly. You want to grasp it to slow it down, but you can’t. You might try to make out a scene or two as the movie plays in reverse before you, but you can’t. It moves too fast and, anyways, you are kind of eager to get on to the next film.

I write this blog because I know the vibrancy of the memories will fade. They have begun to do so with Penguin’s earliest years, a realization that punched me in the gut just a few weeks ago. As the boys age and do more and more, the experiences seem to slip by faster. Or maybe it’s that there is so much more to take in that there is not as much room for a leisurely toss-n-turn around the ‘ol brain.

Owl will be a year old on Friday. What a wonderful, awful, interesting, dull and cherished year it has been.

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