I read the book The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin a few years back and the one line that really stood out for me was, “The days are long but the years are short.”
As a mom of three, I have never heard a line more true.
When the kids were young, I was dripping in babies and mashed bananas, bouncy swings and diapers. But we didn’t have too many places to go. The kids didn’t have friends and schedules, team practices and homework.
Now that they are teens and tweens, it is almost a full-time job to keep them dressed, fed and driven to their commitments. My calendar looks like a graffiti-filled tunnel under a subway. The dish rack is always full and the washing machine is always running.
I find myself wondering what day it is. Or even what month it is when I go to Costco and see decorations for a holiday that I thought we just celebrated a few minutes ago.
But when I stop and take a breath, and listen to the musings of the day, I usually smile or laugh and think, “When did they become my peers? When did they get such strong opinions? How much longer will they want to spend time with me?”
Every day is a struggle to get this parenting thing half right. I am full of flaws and second guesses, but I know my heart is in the right place. I remind myself daily that we’re all doing the best we can.
As the years fly by, I remember what Charles R. Swindoll once said, “Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children.”
It’s the only bank that really matters in the end.
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