In the hustle and the hurry, time has gotten away from me, and in a split-second, years of our time together are gone.
Eighteen years sounds like a lot in the beginning. When you’re surviving day by day, 6,570 days sounds like an eternity.
So much time, I naively thought.
Those first days blur from one to the next almost seamlessly, floating on a mixture of shock, awe, and sleep deprivation. New love has a way of blinding you to how tired you really are, so you sit up at night counting toes and drinking in little breaths.
Before you know it, things are different. Bassinets disappear. Tiny socks are too tiny. Milestones that seemed far off come and go.
The exhaustion catches up and survival mode kicks in.
Most of the toddler years are a blur. Looking back I’m not even sure how I did it. And yet, here we are; years behind us and only a fraction of your childhood left ahead.
And while there certainly are memories that make the corner of my mouth draw up, more than anything there are questions.
Did I use my time with you wisely? Have I taken advantage of the moments I had? Did I lay a good foundation for your future? Do my successes outweigh my failures?
Days race by filled with tasks and responsibilities all begging for my attention. My mind races through a neverending list of to-do’s, constantly prioritizing and re-prioritizing.
Some days, I let all the other stuff jump to the top of the list. Other days I threw the list aside and sat on the floor with you for hours. Those are the days I remember most; I hope you do, too.
Busy days turn into weeks that pile up into months, and I swear every week it’s going to slow down and things will get easier.
But I’m starting to think that none of this gets easier, it just gets different. And maybe you get used to being tired and juggling too many balls, so you learn to say ‘no’ and you accept that you can’t do it all.
Maybe that’s the lesson:
You just do the best you can do every single day for 6,570 days.
And maybe some days that looks like long days in the office, and Chick-fil-A again for dinner, and short tempers, and early bedtimes.
And that’s OK. Because other days will surely look like trips to the park, and one more scoop of ice cream, and whispered stories long after bedtime.
So, I’ll try not to mourn the passing of time. Because time is short and there’s no use wasting it on regret.
Kendra is a fun-loving wife and momma to a spirited, blue-eyed girl and a particularly jolly baby boy. She and her other half don't share a single letter on the Myers-Briggs scale, but they've got passion and laughter in spades. Although she spends her days as a marketing and PR professional in one of the largest Metros in the country, her coal-county roots run deep.
She's an expert at holding down the fort, abandoning her coffee, and interjecting just the right amount of snark into any conversation. Through her love of writing, she aspires to share how she turns regular days into memories.