It’s a race against time. And time is winning. I can’t even admit that it’s a close race or a nail-biting finish. I am flat out being whaled upon by it.
Here’s the deal, my friends. I am sitting in between two very different phases of motherhood. I’m raising a teenage son who is off to high school in just a couple short months. And I’m raising a Pre-K daughter who is busier than a moth in a mitten. She does not stop. Ever. Sleep is foreign to her, always has been. She’s constantly moving. Which means, so am I. I keep telling myself this phase will end in four years. And while that seems like it might offer some relief, it also makes me sad. Because that means I’ll have to send my oldest away to college and find a new normal without his daily presence.
So, here I am. Standing in my lane. 
Time is on one side. Memories on the other. Doing everything I can to beat time but run pace with memories. Neither one is going at the speed in which I desire. One is too fast. One is getting lost in the wind. How many memories can a mother create between chauffeuring her kids between one activity to another? Or telling them to stop pushing each other’s buttons. Or making sure their uniforms and ALL the other laundry is clean when it needs to be. Or feeding them ALL THE DANG TIME because all they do is eat. Seriously. Why must people eat and wear clothes?! I am feeling like the memories are distant and that time is only a dream.
What if I’m not giving my children enough memories to last a lifetime? What if I’m spending time saying YES when I should really be saying NO? Or vice versa? What if everything I’m doing is just not enough?! How will I know? I can’t possibly sit my children down and ask them. One would give me a single-word answer with very little emphasis one way or the other because that’s what teenage boys do. And one would look at me like she’s listening and then bypass the question and ask for a snack because that’s what four-year old’s do. {sigh} Alas, I am stuck just running laps until my legs give out and hoping that as I chase time and stay ahead of memories, that I’m doing it with observable intentions and love. Two things that neither of my kids may understand until they’re older. In the meantime, it’s on your mark… No. Make your mark…get set, go!
No one told me it would be like this. No one told me that motherhood would be a race against time. No one told me I would be running…I hate running. It’s hard. So, I want to be someone to tell at least one other person that motherhood is indeed a race. Runners and non-runners, lace up those sneakers because there is no getting around it. A marathon. A sprint. A relay. It’s A LOT OF RUNNING. You’ll lose your breath. You’ll get fatigued. You’ll probably cramp up. You might even trip and fall. But, you’ll get back up. You’ll keep on going. And you’ll cross the finish line. Eventually. When the time comes.
Weakness for Words 