“The days are long ... but the years are short.”
I’ve heard this phrase a lot in my life, but I never really understood what it meant. Now I do.
While on my business trip, one of my co-workers asked me how old the triplets were. I’m not sure why it surprised and pained me to say out loud “They are 21-months. My babies will be two, in less than three months.” But right after these words left my mouth, I felt the urge to cry. Sob. Bawl.
More than anything, I wanted to figure out a way to stop time … right now.
My co-worker smiled and said “They’re not babies anymore. They’re toddlers.” I would have decked him – had that “co-worker” not been my boss. So, I responded “Yes. They are toddlers. But so long as they are wearing diapers and sleeping in a crib … they are BABIES to me, and that’s how I’ll refer to them. And you will too, if you know what’s good for you.”
My boss told me that I was in denial my babies were growing up.
This morning over breakfast, as I was talking to mom about plans for Charlie’s 40th birthday celebration in November, mom said to me, “It’s hard to believe that you are going to be 40 in six years.” I had to sit and do the math for a moment, but I replied “Mom, I’ll be 40 in five years.” She looked at me in surprise and said “Are you sure?! I could have sworn you were 34.” To which I responded "Yes. I'm 35 ... but I could have sworn I was 24!"
Jim laughed at the two of us and said “I think you’re both in denial.”
Mom still refers to me as “The baby.” This use to annoy me, but it doesn’t anymore. In mom’s eyes, I will always be her baby.
In my eyes, my children will always be my babies. I'm going to refer to them as babies until they are old enough to protest. Until then, nobody better criticize me for it.
As for denial … I think that’s a river in Africa.