Wow. One year ago I was six months pregnant, living on an island in a big house on a hill with a huge yard, eating mangoes off of the trees, spending my days reading and swimming and wondering if the grocery store would have milk.
Today I have a nine month old (outrageously gorgeous and infinitely wonderful) daughter, am living in NYC in a tiny one bedroom walk-up, spending my days planning feedings and naps and trying to fit in walking the dog, going to the laundromat, and having the occasional shower. And not only does the grocery store have milk, but I can choose from an endless array of skim/1%/2%/whole/organic/lactose free/soy/goat/chocolate/strawberry options. And which grocery store do I choose? I am spoiled for choice.
What I am not spoiled for, is time. Every day I try to remind myself that my little baboushka will be grown up before I know it and I'll be wishing for these days back. But try as I might, I find it very difficult to give up this compulsion of mine to GET THINGS DONE! How can I relax and enjoy an afternoon playing when the apartment is a mess and the dishes are dirty and I haven't checked my email and shouldn't I take Ralph out before naptime and why can't my husband remember to put his socks in the hamper and I'm just going to put on some deodorant and maybe just tweeze these few errant eyebrow hairs and...well, I know what you're thinking. Welcome to the Motherhood!
Someone - although I can't recall who, just like I can't recall what I had for lunch - recently shared these wise words with me, and I repeat them to myself as often as I can: "The days are long, but the years are short." Ain't that the truth.