To everyone who tells me, “The days are long, but the years fly by”: I understand your intentions. However, I must share an important observation. You seem to have forgotten just how lengthy these days can be.
You’ve overlooked the challenges of early motherhood—what it feels like to be jolted awake at 5:03 a.m. by a toddler demanding oatmeal and cartoons. You rise to prepare the meal and then navigate a series of toddler directives, which might last a mere 12 minutes, yet feel like an eternity. You jump through hoops, ensuring the peanut butter and honey are included, serving it in the designated yellow bowl with the red spoon, only to hear, “Mom, I want cereal instead.”
You’ve forgotten.
You’ve forgotten how, at 4 p.m., you finally step into the bathroom and realize it’s the first time you’ve looked in a mirror all day. The remnants of that 5 a.m. oatmeal are smeared across the yoga pants you’ve been wearing since Tuesday. Your hair is unkempt because the baby has been teething and your partner has been working late, leaving no time for self-care.
You’ve forgotten.
You’ve forgotten what it’s like to struggle to complete a sentence, to articulate a thought. Life feels fragmented as you attempt to engage with other adults yet fail to convey any meaningful message.
You’ve forgotten.
But now that I’ve expressed my feelings, it’s your turn. And I know what’s coming next. Because it is indeed true. I recognize that I’m forgetting too.
I’m forgetting that one day, I’ll wish for those little ones getting muddy in the backyard when they shouldn’t be. Yet today, those muddy footprints are just another task added to my already extensive to-do list before dinner—a meal I’ll meticulously prepare, but that no one will eat.
You’re right, I’ve forgotten.
I forgot that soon enough, this clingy little face that only wants me to hold him will become a boy who won’t even hug me in public.
I forgot.
I forgot that one day, I’ll be able to dine out with my partner every night if I so choose. But I’ll find myself at the table, longing for the interruptions only a child can bring, filled with silly requests or amusing anecdotes.
I forgot.
I forgot that one day, I’ll see my children grow up, achieve their dreams, and start families of their own. I’ll feel immense pride for them, but deep inside, I’ll mourn the moments when they needed me most.
Because soon enough, no one will ask for oatmeal with peanut butter or for that silly red spoon. But today is not that day.
Today was long, exhausting, and filled with demands. The children were needy, misbehaving, and not quite perfect. And that’s perfectly fine. That’s the reality of motherhood at this moment.
Even in your dream job, you’re allowed to have tough days.
“The days are long, but the years fly by.” I assure you, there will be plenty of days when I welcome your reflections on how fleeting the years are. But today is not one of them, because you’ve forgotten how long these days can truly feel.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to strap a wailing baby to my back while I mediate a dispute over the Spiderman cup, fold countless loads of laundry, and whip up a gourmet dinner. Spoiler alert: No one will touch it, and I’ll end up microwaving hot dogs at 8:47 p.m.
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In summary, while we may recognize that days feel long in the moment, it is essential to remember the significance of these fleeting years. Balancing the demands of motherhood with the understanding that each day brings its own challenges is pivotal.
Keyphrase: The days are long, but the years are short
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