By Susan Govern
I have a Great Nephew who is four years old now. Another Great Nephew and a Great Niece are both a year old (although she’s closer to two as of now). My newest Great Nephew is only 3 ½ months old.
I share this with you because if you are a parent you will know that often you count your child’s age in months, but only up to a certain point in time. I’ve heard parents of a two-year-old say their child is 24 months old, but most by this age start counting years instead.
I was that way when my son (our first-born) was a baby. “Oh, he’s a month old now,” I would answer when asked. Or “He is a year and 3 months as of yesterday.”
When he was still a baby people would say to me “Enjoy this time while they are little because the time goes by fast.” On days when he was cranky and had been teething for what seemed like “years” already, I would nod my head when anyone told me this little gem, but be thinking “The days are crawling by, and the nights with him not sleeping go by even slower. Time is never going to go fast enough to get through this stage.”
I kept track of each passing week as he grew. Time seemed to stand still some days, and fly by on others. Before I knew it, he was turning four, heading off to pre-school and about to become a “big brother” all within a period of three months in 1991.
I swear, once he started school someone hit the “fast-forward” button on our lives. I cried driving home after dropping him off on the first day of pre-school and just as I finally dried my tears, he was entering First Grade. With his sister coming up fast behind him in the game of life, I barely had time to catch my breath before our son was preparing to go to Sixth Grade Camp.
As I watched the bus pulling away from the school the morning they left for camp, I remember thinking “How the heck did he get to be such a “big boy” that he could go off to a camp without his mommy and daddy?”
I made the mistake of blinking again at some point and suddenly I found myself the parent of a High School Freshman. I reasoned that I wasn’t old enough to have a son starting High School as we sat in the auditorium listening to the “Welcome” speeches for Freshmen and their parents. As we drove home that evening I looked at my son and for just a moment I pictured him in his booster car seat, then the moment was gone.
Once again, Father Time hit the accelerator and four years later I was watching him go off to Prom, Graduate and planning his future. By this time you would think I was used to the “ride” of being a parent speeding up to where it makes your head spin, but I still had my daughter also racing toward adulthood and as much as I wanted to shout “Stop this ride, I want to get off,” and spend time cuddling my babies – Father Time wasn’t listening (or else he had dead batteries in his hearing aids).
Once my daughter graduated from College, I noticed time had finally slowed down to a more manageable pace. I’ve had days, even weeks, where I could enjoy my adult children at the place they are in life and not feel like I’m on a merry-go-round (or the “Scrambler” ride).
Then two things popped up on my calendar just at the beginning of August. First was a note I had written to myself months ago about planning a family get-together for my son’s birthday, and the second was an invite to attend my youngest niece’s 21st. Birthday Celebration.
Now to think of my niece turning 21 – well that took me by surprise, but the note about planning my son’s party really put me into a “spin”. You see, my son is turning 30 – that’s THIRTY – as in no longer in his twenties (30).
How in the world did this happen?! I don’t feel old enough to have a son turning 30 – there are days I still feel like I’m in my thirties (we won’t discuss how old this birthday revelation made me feel).
Father Time has played a cruel trick on me once more. He sped things up when I wasn’t looking – no fair!
But wait, I think I have thought of a way around this. It may not work at turning the clock back, but it might help to keep time from ticking by so fast. Yes, I do believe my idea is a good one.
So now when anyone asks “How old is your son?” I have the perfect answer. I will say he’s 360 Months old. Speaking of his age in months again will make me feel better and if it confuses the person asking, I’ll just tell them “You do the math.”
