I’m not sure who coined this expression and I’m not far enough down this “mommy road” to speak from a place of wisdom but I’m guessing (based on experience-to-date), this will be the most legit statement ever made about the early parenting years. Perhaps revised to longest, sweetest days.

Every afternoon while my daughter is sleeping, after Soren’s nap time (which has morphed into quiet time), he and I snuggle up for 1 to 2 episodes of Curious George. Today, during this commonplace ritual, I was gripped with reality. This isn’t going to last. Soren is not going to tuck his legs between mine, wrap his arm around my neck, spoon and watch George with me when he’s 40 years old. Well, maybe. If he still lives at home. Because he can’t find a girl that’s good enough. In which case, I’d still probably be cooking for him, cleaning for him and doing his laundry…so never mind.

In all seriousness, it probably won’t last another year. And staring this reality in the face, my heart sinks. Most of the time, too focused on the long grind of the task-of-the-day, I forget that this will be over way too soon. How will I get my Soren snuggles then? Upright, embarrassing (on his end), awkward, regular hugs? We’ve all heard it a million times from old ladies, grandpas, our moms “enjoy this time, it flies”. And then depending on how your day is unraveling, you probably think, “whatever, you old prune. You obviously can’t remember this “precious” time”. But not until you have kids, and honestly not until you apply it to something so precious to your every day life, do you really start to get it. Which, like with most things means, you only kinda get it…until you’re old and looking back on it…probably with regret which makes you said “old prune”. But even I’m not too dumb to realize how awesome these moments with Soren are.

So when impending certainty starts to threaten this ritual, here’s my game plan: when he wants to lay a little further away, I’m going to use rewards. Rewards work in the face of rejection. When rewards starts to fail, I’m going to use slight physical force. When he’s too big for that, probably bribery. That’s all I have so far. Basically, whatever it takes, I’m hanging on for dear life. There are certainly times and things that, in the moment, I may want to fast forward through…tough weeks, tantrums, sleepless nights but I would go through everything in slow “Chinese water torture” motion, if it means I can hang on to cuddles and Curious George just a little longer. It’s weird that when you’re a kid, the countdown to something wonderful like Disneyland or Christmas is agony. So why, if I’m so anxious for a little alone time, is the countdown to more freedom and independence going by way too fast?