On the day my daughter turned fourteen, I shared two photos on social media: one from today and a delightful snapshot from her toddler days. I captioned it, “Time flies!” Later, as I scrolled through Instagram, I noticed my daughter had posted a picture of herself, captioned with “finally 14.”
The contrast between my sentiment of “time flies” and her “finally 14” was striking. For me, those years rushed by, while for her, they felt like an eternity.
These days, getting my teenage daughter out of bed before noon on weekends is a challenge. She loves sleeping in, taking her time with breakfast, and often retreats back to bed to scroll through texts, watch YouTube, or dive into BuzzFeed quizzes. It feels like just yesterday she was a tiny toddler, excitedly asking to go out the moment she woke up, shoes in hand.
You know the saying: “The days are long, but the years are short.” I remember a lovely fall afternoon in Brooklyn, collecting acorns with my daughter, who was just fourteen months old at the time. She was so thrilled to gather them, stuffing her pockets full and counting them one by one. We could have played that game forever, and even when we returned home, she created a new version, pouring the acorns into a bucket only to dump them back out repeatedly. The days felt endless, yet the years were fleeting.
When I tuck my eleven-year-old son in at night, I cherish the moment, knowing it won’t be long before he outgrows it. As I pull the blanket up to his chin, I can’t help but notice how much he has grown; he now fills his twin bed entirely. I tease him about how he’s taller than the bathtub, recalling the delight on his face the first time he realized he had outgrown it. He still smiles at my jokes, even as his teenage years loom with eye rolls and sarcasm on the horizon.
Not long ago, my son celebrated his thirteenth birthday, prompting my daughter to exclaim in disbelief, “Is William really turning thirteen?” To her, it seemed unbelievable. “Yes,” I replied, “Soon, there will be no more little kids in the house, just teenagers.” Their reactions made me chuckle; my daughter said “Sorry!” while my son wished me “Good luck!”
Raising teenagers can be challenging, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Isn’t that what parenting is all about? Guiding our children from infancy through childhood and into their teenage years, eventually leading to adulthood? While I miss the days of young children, I embrace the journey ahead.
My mother often remarked on how the years seem to speed up as we grow older. “Seems like just yesterday…” she would start, and while I’d nod along, it’s only recently that I have truly understood what she meant.
In our community, the arrival of fall brings the hustle and bustle of college students, a scene that only intensifies until summer arrives, when the streets quiet down again. Each year, the time between fall and summer seems to shrink, validating my mother’s observations. It’s astonishing how, as I age, time accelerates.
My daughter just finished tenth grade, and my son seventh. If I blink, they’ll be off to college before I know it. I remind myself of this on days when we argue over makeup, clothing, or screen time, wishing the tumultuous teenage years away. The days may feel long, but the years are certainly shorter than ever. So, I choose to savor every moment and resist the urge to rush through these years.
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In summary, as I reflect on my children growing up, I realize how precious these teenage years are. They may be filled with challenges, yet they are also rich with opportunities for connection and growth. Embrace the journey, and don’t miss a moment.