Less than a week ago, my beautiful boys were born. Now they’re a year old. How the hell did that happen?
The most frequent comment from other parents since they arrived has been a variation of the old cliché ‘they grow up so fast, you know.’ It grew mildly annoying. Now I’ve started saying it.
Enjoy the moment, Sam.
It’s hard to savour every single second (covered in gory detail here) but I have tried to live in the present as much as I can. This is a challenge as as my brain is always ticking over, thinking about the next task, the next joke, next gig, next essential baby purchase and more importantly, how we’re going to afford it. Just recovering from a bad night’s sleep can make it tricky to appreciate how utterly magical these two little dudes in front of me are.
My dad said he was never happier than when my brother and I were toddlers. It’s horrible to think that your happiness can peak and never get back to that.
Fuck. That was a depressing paragraph. Sorry about that.
Think about fluffy bunnies for a minute.
Is this why people keep having more kids? That wonderful phase from birth to toddler must be addictive. I doubt anyone is trying for a third or fourth child to ensure that in ten years they’ll have yet another moody teenager skulking around the house, giving them grief while simultaneously taking their food.
The milestones have been both exciting and terrifying. Their first smiles, laughs and eye gouges all brought me to tears for a variety of reasons. Putting their toothbrushes next to ours for the first time felt weird, as if real people had actually moved in rather than the little babies that were squatting in the nursery.
Joy shrink-wrapped with sadness. Like finding the rare, missing EP to complete your Smiths collection.
Every time they move a nappy size up I can feel my life slipping through my fingers like sand. I moved their cots down to the lowest rung setting this week and my heart ached even more than my back. The way it’s going they’ll be married by summer and choosing my care home by Christmas.
Enjoy the moment, Sam.
I struggle with nostalgia at the best of times. My subconscious predated Instagram by a decade, adding a glossy tint to all the shitty memories from my past. Depressing, dead end jobs have become ‘character-building’ in my mind. Aimless drifting in my mid-twenties that depressed me no end are now ‘wonderfully creative times’ in retrospect. I hated those days but now reminisce with the kind of fondness reserved for an old family pet.
My fear is that as my boys grow up I’ll be permanently facing backwards, yearning for the past. I watched an old video of them on my phone yesterday – they were a month old and could barely open their eyes. I felt sadness and no small amount of panic. They’re growing up quicker than a Tamogotchi.
I’m determined not to spend my future living in the past. All that matters is now. So I’m cutting this blog short to go and watch my boys sleeping.