single mom

Time Flies

March is disappearing before my eyes, and I can hardly believe that the day that F meets my new boyfriend is right around the corner. Sometimes I feel as if it was yesterday that I walked through the doors of my Public Relations class at Eastern College. Other days, it seems like it was only yesterday that I held F for the first time. Time is slipping by so quickly I feel as if I’m constantly playing catch-up

Neither one of them are babies now.

The hardest part of being away from F over the last few months was the uncertainty surrounding when I will see him again. Nova Scotia winters can be treacherous and unpredictable (much like myself, actually), and the drive is long. I haven’t seen him in almost 3 weeks, and it’s absolutely killing me. It’s with the support of amazing friends, the beauty of technology and a lot of mind-busying tactics that I’ve survived thus far and I’m sure I’ll rely on them in the future, too.

When I was a girl, my parents often lamented that time goes faster as you get older and I think they were on to something. The days have turned into months and into years so fast that memories blur together – or are we just too busy to slow it all down?

I’ll never pretend to be an expert on anything, really. I’m not the world’s best mom, friend, daughter or anything else but I know how much it hurts to miss moments you can’t get back. I’ve spent the better part of the last three years wishing I could turn back time and spare that extra moment to give my Papa a hug and tell him that I loved him before I left his hospital room that night. I wish I could go back and say the “thank-you” and the “I’m sorry” to so many people that should have been said in that moment. Now it’s too late.

I’m guilty of sitting at my computer or looking at my phone when F wants me for something. I’m guilty of letting precious moments escape me, allowing time to fly by taking memories along with it. I’m guilty of half-assing storytime, distractedly building a puzzle with him and pretending to listen to his story while I do something else that is way less important than what my little boy is telling me about what has just transpired between his stuffed animals and the train set.

Time isn’t going to slow down. Life isn’t going to wait, but we can.

We can make the choice to unplug. Slow down. Relax.

Over the past two weeks, I would have given my left arm to have a few minutes of blissfully uninterrupted time with F and I’ve realized that I too often let those moments slip out of my grasp. He’s never going to be 3 again. He’s growing up so fast I can’t keep up with him, and the moments I’ve let pass me by are never coming back.

When I go home this weekend, I’m going to unplug and slow it all down. I’ll turn my phone off. I’ll leave my laptop in my bag. I’ll read every book F wants to read, complete with funny voices. I’ll take pictures of him. I’ll kiss his fingers, his belly, his toes and his little ears as I help him dry off from his bath and get dressed. I’ll have crazy dance parties in the living room, build a fort under the blankets in bed and I’ll even sing the Barney song with him. I’ll take him outside when he wants to go out and play. I’ll roll around in the snow.

And I’ll make a pile of memories to make up for some of the ones I’ve missed out on.

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