Step by Step Parenting

It was eight o’clock in the morning, and I was on my hands and knees on the floor of my kids’ bathroom, scrubbing the bathtub.

I had come into the bathroom simply to put away some of my daughters’ bows, and I had found those bows while cleaning my office downstairs, and I was cleaning my office downstairs because I needed to vacuum, and I needed to vacuum because I had spilled formula while making bottles in the kitchen, and I had been making bottles because the twins were crying. They were still crying, because I had never finished making bottles, because I had somehow ended up scrubbing the bathtub instead.

“One second!” I called to the twins, who were five months old and had no concept of time or patience. I quickly tossed the paper towels I had been using into the trash can, placed the bows in the glass jar on the shelves above the toilet, and headed downstairs to put up the vacuum and, finally, give the twins their bottles. I glanced at my phone and sighed.

It was only 8:02am.

Several hours later, I was leaned back, head over a sink, while my hairdresser and I were chatting away.

I wasn’t originally supposed to get my hair done today, but in a last-minute, desperate attempt for an act of self-care rather than self-sacrifice, I texted my friend to see if she had any openings later in the afternoon. I had spent all morning cleaning, feeding, burping, and running errands. In all of my rushing around, I had begun to grow angry that it felt like I was bending over backwards to care for everyone else, without ever making time for me. It occurred to me that I hadn’t had a haircut since I was seven months pregnant, and sneaking away for an hour or so to have my hair done seemed like the perfect escape.

‘I’m getting my hair done at 12:30,’ I texted my husband, more of a statement than a request, ‘I’ll be home by 2.’

So there I was, having shampoo massaged into my scalp while I felt my body relax for the first time in probably twelve hours. I had forgotten how nice it was to have someone else do my hair.

“So how old are the twins now?” my hairdresser asked.

“Five, almost six months,” I responded with a big grin.

“What! Already?” she exclaimed.

“I know,” I said, almost ruefully, “it really does go by so fast.”

And it had. Born three weeks before law school finals, it had felt like life hadn’t slowed down one bit since February 23rd. I had raced from one thing to the next: from birth to an extended hospital stay to finals to middle-of-the-night pumping sessions to resuming work at five weeks postpartum to school, school, and more school.

The first few months postpartum with my first daughter had felt like an eternity, but this time around, it was as if I had blinked, and six months had gone by. Half a year had slipped right through my fingers, like sand in an hourglass.

The days are long, but the years are short.

That’s what my mom told me, once upon a time, in some tender moment long since forgotten.

Or, more likely, that’s what my mom told me over the phone, some random day in 2020 when had I called to vent about how exhausted I was without really wanting to hear any solutions. In my early days of parenting, as a stay-at-home mom to one child, every day felt eternal and monotonous. By the time my daughter was in bed for the night, I was thoroughly worn out, every time.

“The days are long, but the years are short,” my mom would warn me, “so enjoy it while you can.”

I didn’t — no, couldn’t — understand it then. But now, six years later, as I prepare that same daughter for her first day of first grade while my not-so-newborn twins are trying to crawl all over my living room, and my two stepkids are playing fetch with the family dog, I get it.

Because yes, those days were long, but I blinked, and they were gone forever.

The days are still long. By ten o’clock most mornings, I have deep-cleaned some neglected corner of my house, cooked at least one meal, walked a mile with the dog on a good day, gotten some writing in, and accomplished a myriad of other tasks that are mind-numbing and meaningless to everyone but me. And the only reason they’re not mind-numbing and meaningless to me is because I make an effort each day to hold on to that advice from my mom that she gave to me when I was a struggling, first-time mom.

Knowing that the days are long, but the years short, does not mean that you must find joy in every moment. I’ll admit, I don’t exactly cherish getting spit-up in my hair, changing dirty diapers, having to raise my voice at my kids, paying bills, cleaning toilets, and a lot of the other responsibilities that come with being a mom and an adult.

But I know that one day, my house will finally be clean. It will finally be quiet. And it will be empty.

From the outside looking in, my day today was nothing special. I cleaned bathrooms in the morning. I picked up the dry cleaning and a prescription from the vet. I got my hair done. I swung by the grocery store for a bag of shredded cheese, picking up some flowers for myself while I was there. And then I came home and had dinner with my husband while the twins played on the floor and the dog chewed on her new toy. It was just another day.

Just another day, though, where I woke up next to my best friend, cozy in bed in our little townhome that I love.

Just another day where I was on the lucky receiving end of countless gummy baby grins.

Just another day where my dog was so excited to see me when I got home, every time, that you would think I had been gone for days.

Just another day living the life that I love so, so dearly.

The advice that the days are long but the years are short was never meant to guilt us for not enjoying every single second. Instead, it was meant to help us stay grateful for what we have in the present, knowing the one day we will miss the very same monotony that we used to pray away.

How lucky I am to be raising five precious children, and how blessed I am to be their mom. Even if the days are long, I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Whether this is your first time here or you’re a regular reader, thanks for being here! I’m trying something new, and I’m going to be writing here on my WordPress blog a little more often, sometimes in response to a daily writing prompt (like today), but other times just reflections on my day. I will still be sharing my weekly Sunday newsletters, though, as well as longer essays focused on motherhood, blended family life, balancing parenting with a career, and everything in between!

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