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Where does my time go?
By ella | June 8, 2007
I held you, mottled pink and silicon-fat arms. I gazed at you, with amazement and fright. I fed you, in the dark hours when the world had stopped except for us. I rocked you, when nothing else helped.
I changed you, picked up after you, I helped you to walk. I weaned you, I tickled you, I helped you to talk. I read you books, and again and again. I answered ‘what’s dat?’ and ‘why?’ and ‘but when?’
And each day passes and I realise: You’ve grown!
Now I teach you, though you don’t know it’s school. We play, because, well, why not? We read, because there are never enough books. We talk, because there are never enough questions. I save time to make time to spend it with you.
We dance, though we can’t and laugh, because it’s funny. And it’s hard to remember a time before you. (Though not impossible.)
Then evening comes and one by one you fall into my arms, your head on my shoulder, your hand stroking my skin. And I love you so much: more than anything.
That’s where my time has gone.
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Categories: Not Enough Children
Oh Ella, a lovely post!
Ella, you are a wonderful writer. You sum up in just a few words all the things that motherhood entails. Really wonderful.
This makes me want to go home and spend the afternoon with my children (unheard of!).
Sometimes - just sometimes - I come here and think that perhaps I might, afterall, want more children. Please make that stop. Really.
Great stuff.
“I save time to make time to spend it with you.”
Love it.
Thank you for painting a lovely picture!
I think this is the first time I’ve been here its pretty interesting I have been clickingaround I found your site off of the super mom website!