The Things That Feel Like Forever (Until They’re Not)

For the first eighteen months that my daughter ate solid food, she ended every meal by pushing her milk cup and plate off her highchair tray and onto the floor. Sometimes I’d be quick enough to catch it, often I’d spend 5 minutes after dinner cleaning the floor. We graduated from a small dust pan and broom, to a stand up dust pan/broom situation, to a cordless vacuum, because I needed it to be easier.

I remember sighing more than once, “one day, she’ll stop doing this,” and then always muttering right after, “but today is not that day,” before crawling around on the floor picking up rejected food items and wiping up milk.

Looking back, I don’t remember when she stopped doing that. I don’t remember if it happened all at once, or if it tapered off. It might have happened when she started eating in a real chair instead of a high chair. I don’t remember when that was, either.

It just *poof* didn’t happen anymore, and I didn’t notice that The Last Time was The Last Time until recently. “Oh yeah, she used to do that. Dang, I forgot about that.”

There are a lot of those “oh yeahs” these days. She graduated preschool last week, and now there’s a whole list of things she used to do that are all behind us, all at once.

The next time I take Big Brother to the bus stop, she’ll get on the bus, too. There won’t be a separate drive to a separate school, at least for the next few years. That will change too, probably sooner than I’m ready for. Nothing is permanent. Everything changes. The peaks and valleys. They are all constantly changing.

We’re quickly approaching the time that I’ll no longer be needed for baths. I’ve already stopped buckling their seatbelts for them. Long gone are the days of pull-ups, diapers, blowouts and accidents. (It’s not always bad to be done with a thing, amiright.) Our training wheels have an expiration date.

There are new phases, too: Brother’s reading now, and leaving love notes in the kitchen for me when he’s feeling particularly connected and joyful. He’s doing more things without needing a reminder, which feels especially freeing for both of us. They’re both closer to really knowing how to swim, and there’s less general anxiety in my life as we all relax a little more around water.

Parenting can feel endless. With all the moving pieces, all the shifting phases, all the things that never quite plateau before moving on to the next milestone and stage of life. Each little thing feels like it’s forever. Like “this is my life now.” Until you glance back and recognize all the things that ended when you weren’t looking.

Summer is the perfect time to take a collective breath as a family, to pause for a metaphorical seven-second hug, to consider what you want to remember about this particular moment in time. Reach out when you’re ready to document your family where you are right now, in regular, 60 minute family photo sessions where we can lazily explore what makes your family happy right now, or in shorter, 30 minute family photo half sessions where you know exactly what you want to remember.