The bitch that is time….

My twins are nine. I am officially halfway through the journey to adulthood with them.  The beauty of parenting has swept by in a murmur of contentment, the whole affair has passed me by in a second….

 

Hmmmmm, horseshit!

 

Sorry….

 

But yes, I will admit that on occasion, time has spiralled past at breakneck speed through their younger years.

 

But I won’t lie, this has mainly been when they slept.

 

But other times the parenting journey has crawled by at snail’s pace.

 

When my son had reflux in his baby years and could projectile vomit across the room, I found time could pass slower than watching a broken slinky trying to navigate down the Empire ‎State building stairwell.

 

And when the twins would wake at alternate times in the night and sleep would evade us for a week. Well then, I would argue that time was actually spinning backwards.

 

When I recall these times, it seems like my pair have been around forever and a day.

 

However, when I envision that in another chunk of time this long, my two will be officially fully grown. With hair on their chins (hopefully just Owen – Molly should have a few more years before that joy descends her).

 

They will have attitudes befitting teens; dreams and ambitions that they will be furiously chasing. Arms that will long for cuddles from people I have not yet met rather than my own.  Mouths that will no longer whisper secrets to my ears, diaries they will no longer leave out casually for me to read.

 

Well then, I feel a creep of nostalgia for the nights Owen would projectile vomit across the room, then he would lay, exhausted in my arms. Falling to sleep to the sound of my singing.  Happy and safe because I was there.

 

When, in my mind’s eye, I see a tall Molly, dressed to impress for her 18th party. A legal glass of champagne resting in her hands, clothes far trendier than I buy her now.

 

Then again, I long for the age when she would wake in the night and babble at me endlessly, a baby beam covering her lips as she persuaded me with a smile that 5am was indeed a reasonable time to wake up.

 

When I look forward, I dream of the past.

 

But the now?

 

Now they are nine (and one day). We celebrated yesterday by bouncing on trampolines, I managed to control my pelvic floor just enough to not shame the whole family.

 

We ended up in A&E, but with my brood it is never a surprise and nothing was broken.

 

My babies are emerging from being children, cruising easily into the status of pre teens; they takes hours doing their hair, whilst never noticing their face needs a wash.

 

They are funny, impatient, wilful and wild.

They are growing too fast, time is merciless bitch. When we embark on a game of family Monopoly I wish the hours away.  When I do night checks, and watch my small ones doze, I long to freeze frame the moment.

 

It would seem you cannot halt the growing process, but merely ensure you enjoy the ride.

 

Happy Birthday to my twins – may your ninth year be happy, healthy and full of glee.

 

Love you, 

 

Mummy