The saying is true, “time flies”. It feels like just yesterday that I was here last. It feels like just a moment has passed since I had Landon, since I was a mother of two, since life with my children began.
Time and I have been on a collision course these past eight years. I try desperately to slow it down, it just forges ahead, or keeps speeding up. I blink, and another milestone has been hit, another birthday has passed, another stage has been reached.
Since we were last together, Jacob has turned 8, Elwood has turned 6, and Landon is almost 9 months old. Crawling and cruising have been reached, another soccer season has come to a close, and the winter edition of Rhythm of The Home is almost upon us.
So why the absence? That is a tough question, mainly because the answer still surprises me. In late August of this year, two events took place that changed my mind about time drastically. The first was my Aunt Missy was diagnosed with lung cancer, a tumor the size of a baseball. The second my sister in law’s brain tumor returned. Two vibrant women in my life who seemed to have just been delivered the worst of news. Time was once again marching on in a way I did not like. Both survived their surgeries, and both are doing amazing. Still, a reminder that time is certainly not infinite.
So I decided that if I could not stop time, I would dance with it in the most natural way possible.
When I had Jacob, I tried to cram everything into the time that we had. We did everything, saw everything, not a moment was ever missed. Every craft was made, every holiday perfectly prepared, every garment hand knit. It felt like perfection, but something was missing.
With Elwood I raced even harder, making two of everything, sewing, knitting, baking, dreaming planning, crafting. It was beautiful. My friends awed at all that we could “accomplish”, I patted myself on the back for all that I could do for my children. Still, something was missing.
Five years passed, those two boys have grown and expanded and become amazing young children. I am proud of them, and I know that they value their childhood. But as Landon’s time on this earth approached, I knew something was still missing.
Then in late August, I figured it out. Please understand that this feeling that I had deep inside, it was mine. It is not being put into words to project onto others. It was just what I knew was right for me. I was missing the time to just be.
So I grabbed the time that Landon and I had, and I held on tight. There were no handmade items at the boy’s birthday, Landon has no hand knits to speak of, there is no special quilt, or amazing holiday spectacular to show. There is, however, 9 months of napping with my children, quiet walks in the woods, and an autumn that we cherished so quietly, but together. I have not missed a moment, have not crammed a million things into every nap. I have just been here, and allowed myself to get lost in the experience.
I would not necessarily change anything about the way that I raised my older boys, but I had something to prove to myself that has simply melted away over time. I never wanted to get lost in mommy hood when I was young. That might sound harsh but it is the honest truth. I needed to show everyone, but mainly myself, that I could stay relevant, even as the title of Mother was added. It is the world we live in, the stereotypes that we allow to happen, or just my simple insecurity that drove it. I am thankful that Jacob and Elwood feel as though I was always there for them, but it came at the expense of spending half of every night creating what I thought that they needed.
As Landon has shown me, all that we need is time together.
So I arrive back in this space, back in my craft room, back at my knitting needles with a sense of peace for time. I love to craft, I love to do, and I will write about all of those things with joy here, but I have savored time, and I am so wildly grateful for the ability to do so. I think that what I am most grateful for is that this is a space where I can just be me, can share the things that I love with others who enjoy them, and I am leaving my need to be anything more than I am at the door.