Time travel

Looking at the little, sleeping child next to me, I cannot imagine that she will ever be bigger than she is right now. I can't imagine that she will soon be running around and talking to me about her day or helping me in the kitchen. Right now, she is so little and constantly by my side.

It has been that way with every one of my children. Sure, I know they will grow up. Of course they will! It is just difficult to see it happening. I can't look around the house right now without seeing another one of my children, growing, changing, all at varying ages and stages, brought here by time travel. Seemingly created in this form, no one remembers how we got here, but here we all are, and they are older, bigger and more intelligent. My 10 year old is proof that children grow, and they do it quickly.

I held him once and marveled at the endless possibility of his future, how vast it seemed in its limitless potential and impossible to know or foresee. I know the same will be true for this little girl I hold now. It may not seem like it, especially on the days when she is unhappy or needs to be in constant contact physically with me, but someday she will have all the abilities to stand on her own. She will speak her mind and make her own decisions and have to accept consequences, all on her own. If I'm lucky, I will be there to comfort, console and counsel.

We are unable to record or recollect every moment of our children's lives (well, you could record it, but that is a lot of work and slightly creepy). Instead, we catch those expressions that they have been making since day 1 or 2, or we hear them saying a phrase they used as a toddler or preschooler, and it jogs our memory and we get a chance to travel back in time. The best part is that we get to take them with us in a way. as we share those stories with them. Its like our own little time machine.

I will try to cherish every moment I have with this babe. There may be days that I wish she was feeding herself or able to help me with laundry, but these are also days that I will never get back and she will never be this small again. Small enough to be cuddled in the crook of my elbow and the curve of my neck. Small enough to remind me of how it felt to have her somersaulting in my belly.

This summer has flown by while I have been inside, slowing down time, absorbing every moment of her first days. I didn't get to soak up the sun, but I basked in the smiles and sighs of my little one. That's what my time machine runs on.