Yesterday morning, I had an overdue bagel and coffee with another mother. Our daughters, both seniors now (and mine already 18, wtf?) used to be inseparable. They were pretty much attached at the hip through preschool, pre-K and kindergarten. And while they ended up at different elementary and middle schools, they stayed good weekend friends for years.
These days, they have different interests and travel in different groups at school, but our families have remained close.
Most of our conversation (the place was probably ready to kick us out after 2+ hours) was catching up on our whirlwind summers and comparing notes on the looming college application process. Every few minutes though one or the other of us would say something like: "They're seniors. Can you believe it?" Or "Where did the time go?" Or "How did we get here?"
These are the same bewildered murmurs I'm hearing from all my fellow mothers. We're all thinking the same thing. If our daughters are finishing high school, how old are we?
Wait, don't answer that.
We know our girls have wonderful adventures ahead of them (if they can get through the next six months of unrelenting stress). We're proud of their accomplishments. We're compassionate about their challenges. We (usually) excuse their attitudes. Most of all, we want to help them make good decisions and move forward positively and productively into their next oh-so-exciting chapter.
And, in the moments when we're not offering opinions on essay prompts or SATs, senior projects or safety schools, we miss them.
Well, not "them" them. Not the sometimes sullen (okay, often sullen, almost always sullen) teenagers we're currently cohabitating with.
We miss the old them.
We miss the princesses and the mermaids and the astronauts, the ballerinas and the gymnasts and the softball players and the ninjas. We miss making cupcakes and reading bedtime stories, doing art projects, watching Disney movies. We miss zoos and museums, amusement parks and bicycle rides. We miss science projects and field trips. We miss tucking them in at night and waking them with hugs and smiles (not exasperated yet utterly toothless threats).
And speaking of teeth, we miss the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, the Great Pumpkin and Santa Claus. (We even miss that ridiculous — and, let's face it, kinda creepy-looking — Elf on the Shelf.) We miss dancing and twirling and splashing and skipping. We miss holding hands and all things first: first words, first steps, first teeth, first haircuts, first grade.
We miss sharing their secrets and being the one person, the one and only person in the whole wide world, they can't wait to see after school.
I wonder sometimes if my daughter misses any of the magical-mundane moments I do. I think she probably will some day.
But, right now, she has too much to look forward to.
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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."
