The Long and Short of It

Today I saw an old friend for the first time in years. He saw August and asked "Where's your other baby?" Serval long moments went by before I realized what he meant. "This isn't one of the twins," I said. "They're almost four. This is a new baby."

"Wait, really?!"

Sometimes it feels like life is so slow. I see friends after months and have no news. I just do the same thing, day in and day out. Yesterday we collected sticks at the park. Today I made homemade graham crackers. Tomorrow August will get his fourth tooth. Things that are small. Non-noteworthy. Things that I tell Travis over dinner, or forget to tell him.
But not things you write on Christmas cards.

That's what they say though, right?
The days are long and the years are short. Sometimes, it feels like no time at all has passed since Travis and first held our two newborn sons four years ago. Sometimes it feels like lifetimes have passed.
Often within the same day, I find myself thinking "Last week on Halloween..." and "Next week for Halloween..."
Time seems pretend. It's all wibbley-wobbley and it doesn't seem to know that it's supposed to pass at a regular, constant speed.
Watching my littlest monkey at the park this week, I kept thinking of when Grey and Micah were his age and would crawl around in the woodchips. Beg to be pushed in the swings. Climb on to the playground equipment like somekinda big kids. I used to get so mad at the bigger kids (think 18 months old) who would run and knock past my babies.
Be CAREFUL. I wanted to roar at them.
And then my kids were 18 months and the four-year-olds at the playground would push them off of things without even noticing, or pick up their toys and wander off without thinking. I was furious!
Where are these kids' mothers? Why aren't they watching? Why aren't they shouting, "Go back and say sorry to that baby!" instead of making "I'm sorry" eyes at me?
And now my kids are four.
(And the ten year olds at the playground are my new enemy.)
But I understand. And when my kids are racing and not looking, they stumble over babies and shout "I'm sorry!" over their shoulders, and I make sad eyes at the Mom and remind my kids to be careful.
But really, it's the Ciiiiiiircle of Liiiiiiife.
I guess.
And time moves and it doesn't move. I always get contemplative about time in the spring. It's not really spring, I know. It's only January! But it sure feels like Spring. And I've been reading through seed catalogues and pinning composting tips.
The last two days were in the high fifties (felt warmer!) and we spent much of the day outside. I dug in the garden, raking up dead leaves and mixing my compost and the warm, wet earth smell hit me so hard. Lines from The Secret Garden kept running through my mind and again (in every spring) I started thinking so much about life. About time. About seeds and babies. Growing, changing, staying the same, repeating the circle.
And my boys are turning four in a month.
Micah has requested a shiny blue bike, Grey has requested a book.
And some things never change.