I went up to tuck the boys in the other night, and found them snuggled up together in Charles' bed like little puppies. It was pretty cute, and I really wanted to take a picture of them - partly to share the awesome cuteness with y'all, and partly to have a record of the fact that a) they weren't talking (or quacking or honking or making penguin sounds - whatever those are but apparently they can make penguin sounds) and b) they weren't fighting. Now honestly, they don't actually fight all that much. They actually quack more than they fight, and the quacking is actually more annoying....but I digress...
As I watched them sleep it occurred to me that it won't be much longer before they'll be needing their own bed and more of their own space. Technically they probably need a bed to themselves now but they like to be together, and we're cool with that. But our conversation a few weeks ago about postsecondary education really hit me. For example: Charles will be 10 this year - he's in grade 4. There's only one more year of elementary school for him; 3 years of senior public (middle) school; 4 (or maybe 5 at the most) years of highschool. At minimum he could be heading off to college or uni in as little as 8 years. 8 years, people. I mean come on, that's crazy! We've already been through nearly 10 years and man, have they flown. Flown. It doesn't seem possible.
When you first have a baby, people tell you how quickly they grow up. And as you sit there, sleep-deprived with bleeding nipples, the realization that no, you probably won't get to have a shower this week, and a baby that just will not sleep/feed/stop crying/one of any number of things babies do to mess with your head, you actually fantasize about the drive to a university 80km away, about unloading all their stuff, helping them plug in their computer and set up their IKEA furniture, giving them some cash and getting the HELL out of Dodge. Well, at least I did, anyway.
But you know what? Those people are right. On. The. Money. The time is going - it's going fast. And while I don't actually long for the bleeding nipple days, or the toilet-training days, or even the first day of school days, I am learning to slow things down. To rejoice in the moments - all the moments, no matter how mundane.
So I spent some time watching them sleep, listened to their soft snores, their little grunts and sighs. I tucked the blankets around them and kissed their foreheads. And I marvelled at how in just a moment or two I can see at the same time in both their expressions the babies they used to be, the boys they are right now, and the men they will become. I can see it all, but I don't long for anything else. I don't want to go back, and I certainly don't want to speed things up. I know what was, and we'll get to what will be...eventually. Right now, it's just them...just now...just as they are.