You're Gonna Miss This.

"You're gonna miss this."

It's been said so many times it was made into a country song. Now my dad doesn't only say it to me, he sends along the link to the YouTube video or copies and pastes lyrics to the song. "You're gonna miss this. You're gonna want this back." 

I love you, dad. And old ladies in the grocery store, I am sure you're great too. Strangers on the trails I'm walking, grandmothers at church, family members at Thanksgiving dinner - you are wonderful. I know you mean well. And so hear what I'm about to say with that in mind: That mother of a threenager who will only watch episode 6 of Daniel Tiger on repeat and a 7 month old who refuses to take a bottle, who you're telling "you're gonna miss these days" to over Thanksgiving dinner? She's picturing what your face would look like dripping in gravy after she flings it across the table at you.

When you are in the trenches of parenthood, when you can't remember when you slept more than 3 hours at a time (sometimes 30 minutes), when you are counting down the days til your children are in full time school and wondering how the heck the Cheerios got stuck to the curtains six feet from the dining room table, when you have mastitis or low supply or post partum depression or are healing from a C-section...when you love the baby snuggles as much as you dread them (because good God could two seconds minutes not go by without someone TOUCHING ME?!), when you just can't clean one more damn bottle, when the sound of the pump triggers PTSD symptoms, when the nursing endorphins are accompanied by sleep deprivation...the last thing you want to hear is "you are going to miss this." Because you won't. No sane person looks back on that time your precious little ba--piranha took an actual CHUNK out of your nipple (so bad the lactation consultant visibly cringed) and thinks "man, I really wish that would happen again."

And then one day you're traveling by yourself. You only have one carry on bag, actual grown up books to read on the plane, no exploding sippy cups or window stickers or back up outfits or bargains with the Lord to please just let this child sleep through a portion of the flight. It's been 4 days since you held your children's hands. Children who now sleep through the night 85% of the time, who are in full day school, and you haven't changed a diaper in 18 months. And you look up and see a family with two small children. The youngest is probably about 10 months old, snoozing on his mama's chest while strapped to her in an Ergo and you think "God, I miss that." I miss when all they needed was to bounce against my chest and they'd snooze away. I miss when the way our bodies would keep each other warm. I even miss the times I'd feel something drip down my boobs and I'd wonder if it was baby drool or my own sweat and I'd laugh about "how is this my life?" I miss when they were small enough that I could wear them on my front rather than just by back on the occasional hike (wandering picnic) and I could bend down and kiss their bald little heads. I miss their hands wrapped around my sides, needing to feel a fist full of mama's skin or clothes. I miss the way they'd waddle by when they were just learning to walk, the words they could barely say that came out as first syllables only...or in the case of my youngest, the look of astonishment on people's faces when "that baby" who didn't walk until 18 months was speaking in full, articulate sentences. I miss the way my 2 year old would kiss her baby sister's head, wipe her spit up, speak kindly to her. I miss when I had to come up with ways to fill our days and sometimes had multiple play dates booked so our kids could play at the same time my mama tribe could talk, sometimes to another adult for the first time in three days. I miss music time, and story time, and open gym and actual nap time. I miss my every day yoga pants attire, dang it. 

I do. But I don't miss those days. They weren't so long ago that I forgot about the post partum depression, the maternal anxiety, the tantrums (who am I kidding, that still happens on the regular), wondering if I'd ever wear an actual dress again, the sleepless nights, the frantic google searches, the vaccinations, not being able to set the baby down ever, never being able to leave for more than 2 hours because she wouldn't take a bottle, the unsolicited advice on how to get her to take a bottle. I don't miss hating my new and different body, I don't miss trying to parent with a spouse that worked out of town for 4-6 weeks at a time, I don't miss trying to parent in a broken marriage. I don't miss watching Sophia the First six times in one day and the mom guilt that accompanied that.

And so this phase of parenthood? I can look at a waddling toddler waving "hi!" to everyone she passes and audibly sigh accompanied by an "awww." I can recognize that little heart ache when I realize I won't get those days back, and I know for a fact I didn't fully appreciate them when they were there. I can see a snoozing baby on his mama's chest and ache for one more day to wear my baby in the Ergo while still seeing the under eye bags on moms eyes and the stress on dad's face as he wonders how this flight is going to go with his toddler and his baby. 

I can acknowledge I won't miss wondering how the heck to juggle a full time work, two kids in two different schools, required parent volunteer hours, preschool tuition, learning to co-parent with an ex, trying to come up with lunches my kids will actually eat and then find the time to shop for and make them...I won't miss stubbing my toe on furniture as I help my 6 year old find her lost library book, again, I won't miss the guilt that comes when I see my kid's face when I tell her I can't be a volunteer on her school field trip, I won't miss trying to fight glasses on to my 3 year old's face. I won't miss ER trips after playground accidents.

But I will miss those glasses, one day she'll get new ones or not need them at all. I love sleep but I'll miss my 6 year old coming in at 5am asking to sleep with me and the way she throws her arm over me in her sleep. I will miss school plays, the pride in her voice as she learns to read, I'll miss talking to other parents as our kids play on the playground, I'll miss overhearing their imaginary play, the handmade cards, cooking with them in the kitchen, playing Santa, and holding their hands as we cross the street. 

So we probably shouldn't say "you're going to miss this." But I also don't think the answer is to only acknowledge the difficult either; "I know your life sucks right now" is probably not an acceptable thing to say to a mom in the produce section picking out an avocado to mash up and feed to her 6 month old. Maybe the answer is "Isn't parenthood wild? Isn't it incredible how you can love someone so much you can't imagine leaving them with a sitter for 30 minutes while at the same time wanting to run out your front door, join the circus and never look back? Have you ever felt so many emotions in one day before? How crazy is it that we can trust our instincts and decision making one minute and second guess ourselves the next?" 

Isn't parenthood wild?