When you first have a child, older and wiser mothers warn you to savor every minute. "Time will fly," they tell you. "Yeah, yeah," you think as you get caught up in the minutia of motherhood. Diapers and bottles and sleepless nights and croup (just once, thank goodness).
You blink and your baby is a toddler, then a child, then a tween, and suddenly a teenager.
On the one hand it's reassuring, I guess. It feels good to know that we share a common human experience. "Where did the time go?" is the lament heard 'round the world.
On the other hand ...
As my now seventeen-year old (all right, I'll say it ... where did the time go?) needs me less and less, I've found myself looking at my own life and wondering the same thing. For example, I started dating my husband when I was twenty-five, more than half my life ago. I've been out of school considerably longer than I was in school. In fact, my thirty-fifth high school reunion is coming up.
And, I've now lived in this sleepy New England town twenty-four years — that's longer than I've lived anywhere. Longer than I lived in New York or Boston.
I guess I live here now.
It's a sobering thought because my life, my home, my career, this town are not what I had in mind back when I was a teenager planning my extraordinary life. Don't get me wrong, I'm blessed in many ways. I make a fairly good living doing something that's appreciated (and that I often enjoy). I have a lovely family, good friends. It's just not what I expected.
I'm a native New Yorker and will always think of that wondrous city of cities as my hometown. Inherent in that is a heightened sense of vitality, excitement and constant change. And potential. That feeling of potential is what I think I miss most.
The town I live in now places tremendous value on history. Despite a good number of multimillionaires in multimillion dollar mansions on the water, the locals who are most respected are the ones whose families arrived many — many, like two hundred and fifty — years ago. Even though I know I'll forever be a newcomer here no matter how long I stay, I do appreciate the town's collective pride in its heritage.
On the other hand, people become New Yorkers in ... well ... a New York minute. I love that about the city. About my city. Immigration reform aside, the promise of Lady Liberty is still very much alive in NYC. And I miss it. Almost as much as I miss the art, and the theatre, and the restaurants, and, and, and ...
Where I live now has been a great place to raise a child — it's small and safe with good schools; it has beaches and bike paths, and it's just half an hour from the stable where my daughter spends most of her time (and much of her love). But, she (and the horse) are off to college in less than two years. I'm starting to wonder where I want to be.
If I returned to New York in my mid-fifties (once again, where did the time go?), could I ever recapture the thrill, the sense of potential? Probably not. Could I ever convince my husband to leave this place he loves so much? Probably not. And if I could, could we ever afford the real estate?
Probably not!
I'll daydream about it, but chances are I'll stay here. It may have snuck up on me; it was never my plan.
But, I guess it's home.
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The 4th of July. Independence.
These days, we all bemoan that our children grow up too fast. Whether we're talking about consumption of digital technology or sexification by way of slutty clothes and push-up bras for the underaged. And, it's not just all the stuff. Our offspring more often than not call the shots for the entire household.
Just like consumers have taken over marketing, kids seem to have taken over their families.
As a focus group of one, I spend an inordinate amount of my time doing what my teenage daughter wants to do, driving where she needs to go, picking up whatever she's missing for her school projects or equine competitions. Every time I catch myself complaining, I remind myself that I only have one. Most families we know juggle two, three and more. Their activity level boggles the mind. Yes, my teen has an expensive and time-consuming extracurricular. But, what about our friends who have a daughter who goes into Boston for dance five days a week, a son whose hockey team has ice time at 4 am, and a third child with a private pitching coach working toward a college baseball scholarship?
Dancing and hockey and baseball ... oh my! I'm reminded of my all-time favorite Dunkin' Donuts ad.
It's not just the stuff or the running around. Kids assume that they have an equal say in decisions. Whatever happened to children being "seen and not heard?" Whatever happened to the family meetings in the Brady household? (Did you ever notice that the kids all call Mike "sir?" Ha. In what alternate universe would that happen now?) Dreaming of my utopian parental paradise (y'know back when I wasn't yet a parent), I pledged that I would never say "Because I said so!" Well, guess what? I do say it. And, guess what? It doesn't work. Not. One. Bit.
So with these independent-minded young people asserting their equality and autonomy all around us, I'm often surprised by how dependent they are as they get older. I couldn't wait to go away to college and be separate, be independent.
From my dorm at Tufts University, I called home once a week, on Sundays when the long distance rates were cheaper. But, it wasn't just to save money. I was eagerly living my own life for the first time. A weekly update was sufficient. Today, kids Skype and videochat home all the time. They text and send pictures. Parents get real-time information about real-time issues. (By the time Sundays came around, a million years ago when I was in school, I had already dealt with and resolved mine.)
As an observer, I really think there's much too much connection. Cut the cord already, folks! But, as a mother, I really (really really) understand the allure.
My daughter's up in Vermont this week with her horse at an intensive equestrian clinic. Despite being warned that there was no mobile signal available, we've managed to communicate every day. She has cell service at the home where she's staying, and the facility where she's training has a youth center with WiFi.
So, I'm torn.
Would this be a more valuable experience if she and I weren't in touch for ten days. Probably. Would it be harder for me to get through those ten days though?
Definitely!
My teenage daughter has an iPhone app that automatically counts down days. So, at any given time, she can recite how many days until the end of ninth grade, how many days until the equestrian clinic in Vermont, how many days until the Imagine Dragons concert at the Bank of America Pavilion.
I tell her, "Don't wish it away."
Between now and all of those important dates, there are things she has to focus on, like final exams, her term paper on Athenian Women, and practicing her dressage tests. But, there are also things that are going to be fun, like a trip out to Amherst to attend a good friend's graduation, cousins visiting from out of state, the first warm days of summer.
She doesn't really believe me, but the time will fly. She's already three quarters through her first year of high school.
Where, oh where, did the time go? Please, don't wish it away.
I still remember being on maternity leave. Like all newborns, my tiny daughter was beautiful. But, like all newborns, she wasn't very responsive. She ate, she slept, she woke up, she ate, she slept, she woke up. In between, there were diaper changes and sponge baths and walks in the Snugli and short breaks in the lilliputian swing we had set up in the living room. I read to her from day one, and while I'd like to imagine that my doing so contributed to her current love of reading, in reality it was more for my own sanity. I was completely in love, but the days went by s-l-o-w-l-y.
Truth is, back then, I couldn't wait for her to grow up. At least a little.
Truth is, today, I would deplete my savings and max out my credit cards to get a single one of those days back.
As new parents, my husband and I eagerly awaited all of the firsts: first tooth, first word, first step. Each of those milestones came and went. And, others followed: first year at sleep-away camp, first concert, first time she tried sushi.
The years between her first day of kindergarten and her first day of high school are a blur to me now. And, we have new firsts on the horizon:
First time she drives (next September!)
First time she goes out with a boy
First time she and her friends go to a party and find alcohol (or worse) there
First time she gets accepted (or rejected?) by a college
First time she moves away from home
All of these things — the good, the bad, and the truly terrifying — are looming. And if I thought the last fifteen years flew by, how quickly will we get through the next three?
Maybe I need a countdown app. Then again, I'd rather stop, breathe, really be here while I can, and take my own advice ...
"Don't wish it away."
