Two years have come and gone since my last blog post. I can explain. I am busy . . . just like everyone else. I have two very little boys in addition to other priorities that don't quite compare. I wish I could I just slow it all down. Where can I get a little extra time to get everything done in a week? I know I am not the only mom that asks myself that question. I sometimes daydream that I can make the world around me move in slow motion. I could fast forward past everyone else and accomplish all of the tasks on my to-do list. There is no way around it. There is never enough time.
So, I have been focusing my time and energy on the things that are important to me. Unfortunately, reality TV is on that list. So embarrassing. It is not at the top of the list, but it is on my list. I would bet anyone that Team Usher will win the Voice Season 6 with the amazing Josh Kaufman. Even with the use of fast forward after DVRing the Voice, I still waste two hours of my life each week on this single television show. And it isn't my only show. I do like good television shows, too. I tell myself the TV is a way to decompress, to turn off my mind at the very end of a crazy day. I will try to remedy this problem by writing more.
I like to write. I don't do it enough and I don't even know that I'm that great at writing, but it forces me to dig deep into the emotion, what is important to me right now. Someone once told me that writing is a good way to slow down this life - to capture it in words. That is meaningful to me, because life has gone incredibly fast over the past four and a half years. Seriously. It was the blink of an eye. I was reminded of that this week, because Ike and Ace [these are only nicknames] are four and a half - suddenly. It seems like they should realistically still be two. It really does. I know all parents say similar things, but it is shocking to me.
I started this blog over five years ago to help share the end of our miserable journey through fertility treatment with our friends and family. It was a central location for anyone that cared to check on the progress of our first (and, currently, only) IVF cycle. We started IVF after nearly three years of trying to conceive via other fertility treatments. Once we discovered that it was very successful, two beating hearts, the blog progressed into a pregnancy journal. My pregnancy was technically only 7 1/2 months in length, but that time period went slower than the last 4 1/2 years. Sincerely. Pregnancy was a lot less fun than I admitted with this blog.
Anyway, the blog then updated our friends and family on the developing personalities and milestones of two tiny miracles - perfect little boys. That was an incredible time in my life, and although a lot of it is slowly blurring, there are so many moments that are still vivid in my memory. Like the night that the boys were about 6 or 7 weeks old and it was 9:30 pm. For some reason, their feeding/sleeping schedule was out of whack that day, and I was in a hysterical panic, because I didn't know if I should wake them up to feed them one more time before I went to bed. I still remember the feeling in my stomach that night when I realized that I had no idea what I was doing and there was no one or no manual that could tell me step by step what I should be doing. But soon after, I also realized that I could keep the tiny miracles alive with some degree of success.
Oh, but I remember the good stuff, too. I remember the way that Ace looked like a balding little old man when he was a few weeks old, because he lost all of the hair on the top of his head, but still had thick dark hair all around the sides and back. And the facial expressions. That baby was so expressive - still is. He had gas like an old man, too. Dave and I would lay in bed and laugh, because it was thunderous. Ike loved to look up at the lights. He would crank his neck in crazy positions to see those lights. "Lights" was his first first sign at nine months, too. Sadly, it was his first spoken word - not "mama" or "dada", like it should have been. It was so special that the boys had a deep and significant bond with each other from the beginning. They slept better if they were touching each other. Even when swaddled, they would wiggle right up next to each other in their cradle. They were quickly dependent upon each other. I remember what it felt like to fall asleep on the couch with both tiny bundles in my arms after a marathon nursing session. We would all sleep so peacefully. I finally felt like I was home.
Life has changed since then. When I get a quiet break, late in the evening, to reflect on those moments that matter most to me in the here and now, I find myself wondering how much longer I will get to enjoy each phase. How much longer will Ike and Ace want to snuggle up on my lap to read a book or watch one of their cartoons? How much longer will they call me "Mommy"? How much longer will they kiss me on the lips? How much longer will I brush their teeth? [Only a dentist would ask that question.] How much longer will Ace say, "Mommy, I need to spend some more time with you before I go to bed." How much longer will Ike love and play with each and every toy that we own? How much longer will Ace proclaim that he is marrying his best friend that lives next door? She is four years older than him. How much longer will Ike ask me hard questions like, "How do babies get out of a mommy's belly?" How much longer will they want to sleep in a bunk bed in the same room? How much longer will they love to play in a sandbox? The list is endless.
The answer to each question is the same: not long enough. So, I am going to use the Miss Marvel powers, granted to me by Ike and Ace last year on my 35th birthday, to focus on the moments right in front of me. Because these moments, they are a gift . . . a privilege. I will not waste my everyday moments with my two tiny miracles by transforming these questions into worry.
I will savor each moment.
I will soak them up, try to stretch them out as much as I can. I will sit back and watch my boys as they use their expansive imaginations. I will not be too busy when they ask me to play along. I will smell their hair every day. I will squeeze them for two extra seconds during each hug. I will whisper in their ear that I am so proud of them for any countless reason. I will put my phone down. Ignore it. I will watch reality TV less and write blog posts more. I will take them to the park more often. I will let dirty dishes sit on the counter [don't hold me to this one]. I will let them stay up late and snuggle in our bed while we watch a movie. I will work on my patience. I will try my best to savor each moment, because this will not last long enough.