Sometimes, it really does.
Last Monday was one of those challenging days. I completely overlooked the fact that my son, Max, had hockey practice scheduled, even though it was a holiday. In a last-minute scramble, I had to reschedule my mother’s visit for dinner to the late afternoon. We ended up racing to the rink, and as I felt the weight of the day bearing down on me, I was short-tempered and irritated. By the time I managed to get Max into the car—his hockey gear haphazardly on—I was teetering on the edge of tears.
It’s astonishing how quickly things can shift, isn’t it? Just the night before, we celebrated Max’s birthday with a delightful dinner at his favorite spot, a homemade triple chocolate cake (which had necessitated three trips to the grocery store for ingredients), and presents galore. Surrounded by the warm glow of candlelight at our dining table, I felt a profound sense of calm and gratitude. My little boy was turning eight.
But here I was, standing beside the rink, fighting back tears in the freezing cold, having forgotten my hat and gloves. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my coat and pressed my forehead against the icy plexiglass that separated me from the action on the ice. Watching Max skate, I felt my heart race and a tightening in my chest: I’m trying to juggle too much at once. As a result, I feel like I’m failing at everything. I was just so exhausted.
Taking a shaky breath, I struggled against the wave of sadness rising within me. Suddenly, I recalled the lyrics of a Billy Joel song: “This is the time to remember, ’cause it will not last forever…” I shook my head, feeling a mix of chastisement and irritation; I was reminded of my deep desire to be fully present in the moment and the heavy burden of my expectation to achieve that consistently. Is my relentless feeling of falling short of being present actually hindering me from enjoying the present?
I can’t say for certain. I believe I was much less engaged before I started pondering this question. Yet, I remain painfully aware of all the moments where I’ve missed the mark in truly connecting with my life.
As I gazed at Max, his small figure blurred by my tears, I felt an intense longing to embrace these years fully—to pay attention and not overlook anything. However, time and again, I find myself failing. I let my fatigue or irritation overshadow the beauty found in this imperfect existence. The thought of all that I’ve already overlooked brings me to tears. I don’t even want to blink, fearing I might miss something else.
Throughout the night, the refrain echoed in my mind: “These are the times to remember, ‘cause it will not last forever. These are the days to hold onto, ‘cause we won’t although we’ll want to. This is the time, but time is going to change.”
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Summary:
In moments of stress and overwhelming expectations, the author reflects on how easily one can shift from joy to sorrow. While striving to be present, the author grapples with feelings of inadequacy and exhaustion. Despite these challenges, the desire to cherish each moment remains strong, underscoring the fleeting nature of time and the importance of mindfulness in parenting.