True.

I have an aversion to cliches; truisms make me want to secretly roll my mind’s eye.

But for all my avoidance of speaking the obvious and overuse of statements, all I can sentimentally think of when I look at this boy is

“Where did the time go?”

Then I roll my eyes at my own commonplace inward thoughts.

(But I still continue to wonder.)

~

I wonder.

I feel anxious at the prospect of the next small number of years he’ll be with us until he’s grown.

I feel a sense of urgency, a need to do better.

I want to fix my motherhood mistakes, take more time.

I need to remember. To laugh more. And I hope he’ll forgive me when someday he realizes the blunders I’ve made, for the learning I had to do with my firstborn.

The fact that I am his mother makes me happy and scared and hopeful.

I want to be more patient. To grow alongside him.

To hurry up and make more memories.

To (hesitatingly) use another cliche,

I really, really want time to slow down.

~

I am his mother, and I took his school pictures because I don’t want to pay for bright flash and a blue background. It was fun.

~