Did you know that there are only 940 Saturdays between your child's birth and him leaving for college?
You can call it impatience, or an inability to understand time, but I've begun calling it living in the moment. It's a state of now.
And it's taught me something supremely important. There are some things I talk about starting and doing, so many times when I catch myself saying, "Yeah, I was going to do that, but..." I didn't have time, or we'll start it another day, or we're just waiting for...
There's always an excuse, a reason. And while it might be a good reason- money, lack of opportunity- it's most of the time not good enough.
We can strip it down to something even more simple than that. Aubrey asks me to take him to the park, and I tell him, "Not today, baby," because it's too hot or I'm tired or I have other things to do, like laundry or cleaning the bathroom. Yeah, those things are important, but they can be done when he's sleeping, or not when it's prime park time.
So I tell him we can go another day, but before I know it, another Saturday has passed and I'm down to 800.
Before I know it, I'm filling out last minute paper work and packing a car and watching my baby drive away to start the beginning of the rest of his life...without me.
And I'll say to myself, If only I had one more Saturday.
It's hard for me to remember that my time with him underneath my wing is limited. I'm a stay at home mom who gets to see his gap-tooth smile every second of every day, so when I see something about the limited amount of Saturday's we have, my instinct is to question how many Monday's and Tuesday's and Wednesday's and... You get the idea. But it shouldn't be about counting the days. It should be about making the days count, however many you have or don't have.
I think, as a whole, we've gotten it in our heads that there will be a tomorrow. That there will be more chances and do-overs. I'm always assuming that another day will come.
It sounds kind of bleak, but it's not always a guarantee. Today could be the last time I'm woken by a whispered, "Mommy, I'm awake." It could be my last chance to pull him into my bed and snuggle him while he's still semi-asleep.
I want to be more like Aubrey and live in the moment, in this state of now. I want to be so wrapped up in the time being that, when the end comes, I can look back and say that every moment was consumed with a memory, big or small.
Whatever it is that you want to do, whatever better you're trying to achieve, you'll never be more ready than you are now.