Present

Tonight, Tom and I are starting a four-week parenting class at Colden's preschool, given by his teacher. We've heard wonderful things about this class and we've been looking forward to taking it for several months now, but it's going to be a hard thing for us. Since it meets on a week night, this means that Colden has to spend the entire afternoon and most of the evening at Oma and Opa's house - a long time for a four-year-old to be away from home. And Tom and I are used to being in bed by nine p.m. lately, since we're still dealing with the middle-of-the-night wakings.

What makes me a little sad today is that this morning, I was totally not present at all during our morning routine. I was thinking about how much work I had to get done, my projects, my new camera lens, Colden's birthday this weekend, the bills...and before I knew it, Opa was here and it was time to get Colden dressed and out the door.

Normally, it wouldn't be a big deal, but that means it'll be twelve hours before I see my little boy again, and then he's going to have to go straight to bed (as are we) if we expect to be awake and ready to go on time the next morning.

Why does it seem like time moves so fast lately? The cousins were here for seconds; I turned around twice, and suddenly Colden is four years old and in preschool. I'm preparing for my upcoming trip to the Tucson gem and mineral shows, which will probably zip past at the speed of light...

Sometimes it seems like the only time I can slow things down is if I sit down with Colden and do something with him, or if I sit with my beads while he's playing with his trains or his crayons. Even my work days just seem to zip past me while I'm not paying attention lately.

If I could slow down time, or even back it up to this morning's breakfast routine, I would have spent more time with Colden instead of worrying about the dishes and the day's agenda and my deadlines. I'll always have deadlines. But my little boy is growing up right before my eyes.