The Steady, Certain Hand of Time

So I'm rocking Genevieve to sleep this afternoon because her nap had lasted all of 35 minutes and her morning nap was totally non-existent. We are going to an engagement party this evening and there is no way we're leaving Yiayia with two cranky babies. So I've got her wrapped up, binky in and we're rocking in the chair in their room with the afternoon sun glowing through their blinds and I find myself getting misty eyed. It hit me, hard, that I've only got a small number of these moments. Sooner than I like these girls will be crawling away from me, walking away from me, going to school, going on dates, getting jobs, getting married, having kids of their own. I'm not going to be able to call them up in 20 years, hold them close and rock them while they sleep. ... they might find that creepy. But that is the most satisfying experience I know of. It's a total embodiment of "home". Home is where the heart is, right? Well, this is where my heart now is. In tiny hands, tiny smiles, small moments of perfection. And it's sad to know that I've already gone through 5 months worth of moments like this. I don't know how many more I have, and what if I didn't savor them enough. What if I failed to grasp them because I was tired, or because I was busy, or because I was just to foolish to realize their rarity. These are things I will miss. These are what justify the lack of sleep, the vanishing hair, the house that looks like a tornado has moved in to stay. And I want to horde them forever. Stuff them under a mattress and pull them out in 30 years when I'm old and crotchety. ... ok, oldER and MORE crotchety. But they won't be there then. It's like a perfect rain. You better run outside and dance in the puddles now, because you only get the memory afterward. Drink in today, cause tomorrow you'll be thirsty.