On Time

I realized today how fickle my relationship is with time.

It's about a week until I'm due so I thought I might as well try to dig out the girl baby clothes from our mouse-smelling closet and give them a good washing. I had to divide out the newborn clothes from the 3-6 month and the 6-9 month clothes. I was excited when I first opened the plastic tote. There were all of these tiny clothes that my soon-to-come newborn will be wearing hopefully before July hits. It made me impatient for the next couple of weeks to pass so I can see what this little girl will look like in her pile of pink, purple, and yellowness.

Then as I picked up each individual dress, onesie and footsie pajama to check the size, I thought of when my older daughter first wore them. I smiled over the outfit she wore home from the hospital that her arms and legs couldn't make their way out of for her littleness. I remembered her wearing the knit dress her grandma made with her bald head and baby pimpled face popping out of the top. I grinned at the dirtiness of her pink cherry onesie that I liked in particular for her to wear. And I wished time would slow down. I don't want my kids outgrowing any more clothes for me to have to reminicise over instead of dress them in.

I wanted the days to go by faster when my husband was gone and now I want them to slow down. Tonight as we walked down the street, my girl in her Dad's arms a step in front of me holding the hand of each of my boys, my oldest said, "I like it when we're all together as a family." And I wished that time could stretch that walk out into weeks and weeks. I want time to go fast so I can be back to running again, but I want it to slow down so I don't lose this newborn too fast. I want time to go by quickly so I get to see my parents again, but I don't ever want the time to come where I have to take my daughter in for a surgery they'll hopefully be back for. I want next year to come so I can see our family in Utah, but I don't want two months from now to come because then my oldest will be in kindergarten.

Despite all of this fickleness time tolerates my feelings well, it just keeps heartlessly and metronomically plodding along - darn you time.