please understand.

You guys know why I don't comment much, right?  Or why I barely even make my way to anybody's blog, ever, at all, even on the rare occasion?

(This is where you tell me it's okay and pat my back and walk away, thinking, what a needy mess.)

Anyway, I was attempting to reverse that whole business a little bit in the last few days, and I not only read many good posts, I even got a chance to comment a little.  Mind you, I shouldn't have been doing so.  I have work to do.  There's a job, which = actual money, sitting on my desktop immediately beneath this very open mozilla window full of my blog's business.  I've adroitly ignored it for the last two and a half days.  I won't make excuses, though.  I just -- needed to see some of you.  It's pretty selfish of me, given my current life situation.  But I had to know how you all are.

I found out some amazing things.  I read Mrs. Chicky's interview in the Boston Herald, pride rippling through me, face beaming, as I scrolled down.  I lingered over Ruth's and BubandPie's and Jana's accounts of summer, regret interlaced with pleasure because our summer has so little resembled their experiences.  (I'm sorry, baby boy - next summer will not be this -- harried?  Rushed?  Ugly?)  I made the usual leap from giggling to sighing to teary-eyed (corny but true) while reading another in the very long line of beauteous, vision-inducing, literature-worthy posts by Binky.   I felt moved by Suebob's meta-discussion about comments, and Mrs. Chicky's excellent addition to the conversation. 

Mostly, though, I experienced a deep sadness for this horrid business of the growth (brazen!) of our children.  While reading Mama Tulip's complex, lovely post about her son's second birthday.  Slouching Mom's depth of feeling for her sons in the many tributes to their acceleration through life.  Wordgirl's explanation about her behavior regarding her firstborn's college-bound momentum, her inner turmoil palpable (although she manages the writing of it with grace and humor and the lightest, deftest touch, a la her usual astonishingly brilliant style).

How do we allow our babies to grow up, to become fully functioning adults?  To leave our sides, never to return to the soft, fragile beings that needed us so desperately?  Okay, fine, so maybe the desperately needy part is a little overkill, but -- god, it tears me APART to think that there will come a time when my son won't place his glorious little hand in mine and squeeze my fingers, and look at me, his sweet face inches from my own, and shout MAMMMMAAAAAAA!!! ear-shatteringly.

How will I live after these days have passed through my hands?  These hands, so willing to rush past every moment because it is too much, almost, this existence as it stands, this constant nightmarish pace, slap-slap-slapping my cheek (quite rude, actually) as it flits through the middle of the hourglass?  I berate myself for not taking every drop of perfection in the moments we have here together and swallowing them whole, because I'm too tired, too dismally self-centeredly exhausted and fucked up in the head to really manage it.

*lays head on desk and sobs quietly*

Comments

[jen]

i know. i really think i know.

xo

[slouching mom]

oh, debbie. hugs. that's all.

[laurie]

oh man. your last 2 paragraphs speak volumes debbie. you've distilled it all right there. hugs.

[kittenpie]

Oh honey. Right now I am really enjoying the growing up and becoming, but I know there have been and will be times when it feels so bittersweet. You can get hugs from us, though!

[Binky]

One positive thing is that you have these blog posts to look back on, which is a source of memory not everyone is lucky enough to have. So you've got that going for you :)

[Izzy]

I feel like that ALL the time. Seriously, I do. I walk this emotional tightrope and on one side is guilt for not swallowing all those moments whole and the other side is sadness that they continue to grow and will someday be completely separate, adult beings whether I like it or not. It's heart-stabbingly sad, isn't it?

[Andrea]

Dood, crying with you. Life, I command you to slow down!

...

Did it work? I didn't think it would. *Sob*

[Mrs. Chicky]

Ooh boy. Yeah. Every time my kid begs me to color with her but I tell her I'm too busy, a piece of me dies. I get it. I really do.

[mamatulip]

*lays head down on counter and sobs quietly with you*

[bubandpie]

I don't know. It's almost better when you don't comment for months, because when you do it's like they're sticking one of those trachiotomy things in my heart. Because I miss you, and your comments. But I don't mean that in a mad or not-understanding way - just in a really-like-your-comments way.

I think it's easier for me to contemplate the kids-growing-up thing because in my case the umbilical cord (to my mom) is still very much intact. Stretched a little, but still there.

[Buffy]

This was quite touching....

[kristen]

my girl starts first grade in a few weeks, how the HELL did that happen? and now she's a little embarrassed to kiss me goodbye in front of her friends, a kiss blown from her hand the little bone thrown my way...heartbreak much? big hard sigh.

[MelanieinOrygun]

Yes. I do understand. I wish time would slow down for sure.

[Mignon]

Yes, but still. Last weekend I spent much time with a friend with a 2-year-old and a 3 mo old. And holy shit I don't miss that. My kids can both walk. They can eat by themselves. They can articulate when they want their faces painted like a fire truck. I can put them down on the ground and say No, damn it! Get your hands out of my bra!

Babies are so cute now, especially when they're my friend's.

[Heather]

Debbie-
Beautiful, heart-breaking post. I am right there with you. Hugs (and some shared tears). Take care, sweetie!