A mama watching video clips on the computer is like a magnet
to her offspring. At the first sound of familiar little voices coming from the
speakers, they drop whatever shenanigans they’re up to and come running to
check out their former shenanigans. I suppose I can see the appeal – there’s
not a whole lot out there that is more fun than reliving the moments of your
life that were a blast.
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| One of our best moments |
When I reviewed the video from my sister’s wedding, Hannah ran
up to the computer, face practically pressed up against the screen, and flipped
out with excitement. As she watched herself twirling around the dance floor at
the reception, her eyes lit up. “Mama, I want to go back there! Can we go back
there? Please.”
I laughed and explained to her that the wedding was over,
that nobody was there anymore. Everyone had gone home.
“But I want to go back there,” she said longingly.
I know how she feels. I know that in a few short years that
is exactly the place I’m going to be in – wanting to come back to right here,
right now. I guess I’m glad that I’m at least aware of that, but I’m not
looking forward to the moment I find myself missing what’s gone.
I’ve never been one to mourn the past, but I’ve never had it
this good before.
Raising little ones is not easy, and I don’t have the
greatest track record when it comes to patience, so in the midst of the ‘daily
grind’ moments, I don’t always have that perspective. But it’s the hard truth –
the phrase ‘they grow up too fast’ has never felt more real and raw, and that
load gets heavier by the day.
I’ve had Abram in my life for nearly two years, and I know
from raising Hannah that it’s about to get really different. There is so much
that he does right now that will not be a part of him for long. He laughs
hysterically at the faces Hannah makes at him. When you tell him he can’t have
a popsicle or some other such disappointment, he says, “AW, MEH!” (Aw, man!) He
begs for the Ipad so he can watch Jack and the Beanstalk. (“PYE-PYE, peeeease.
BEAN-TAH!”)
He cuddles with his "bappy" in his crib.
He is growing and changing at lightning speed. All I have to
do to see that is look back at all of our captured moments. I have documented
so much of our lives...hours upon hours of video, hundreds upon hundreds of
photos. But it never feels like enough. It will never, ever be enough.
The things I used to find myself immersed in? The stuff that
used to be so second nature to me that I could never imagine not thinking about
constantly? They exist no more. It’s no surprise...I know that’s how life is,
that it’s continually changing and we are creatures that are always
transforming. But nothing quite smacks you in the face with it like watching
your children grow up.
Though I feel blessed to have the technology to be able to
take a peek back in time, taking that peek always makes me ache. You can hit
pause on the video, you could rewind it over and over and watch it until you had
it memorized, but you'll never have those buttons on your life. You can never go
back.
I just hope that when I find myself in that place, wishing
he was two years old again, I’ll be able to look around and say, “I’ve still got
it so good.”
