I don't particularly enjoy blogging as of late. I'm not sure I've ever really been into it, but I do like having a written and graphic depiction of our life. Looking back on old posts and reading my thoughts on my babies and husband and trips, etc. brings me joy. Also sadness, but mostly joy.
Something that is weird is time. Tim and I watched a NOVA episode on time the other night, and my brain felt like it was going to explode. Because how can we even possibly ever understand the concept of time and the universe? No matter how hard we try and how smart and talented we are, one thing we cannot do is make time stop. It's elusive to everyone on earth, and we are all equally subject to it (unless we can travel the speed of light like Ender and then not age as fast, but then we'd probably explode so it'd be pointless).
It got me thinking about this summer, when we sat around watching old family movies together. Seeing myself as a child wasn't nearly as mind-boggling as seeing my parents in my place, only 20-odd years ago. Young, attractive, balancing family and work, changing diapers, giving baths. My favorite clips were the ones where my parents just set their camera on the tripod during regular activities and let it run for half an hour. The documentation of the trips around the European countryside weren't half bad either, but I loved the mundaneness of the everyday activities, the same activities I'm engaging in daily with my small children. I felt closer to my mom and dad thinking about their lives from where I am now, doing the same day-to-day reproductive labor.
In addition to watching the videos, this summer I also talked a lot to my mom and grandma about their lives. I know Mormons love them some family history and I probably should've recorded everything and written it down, but talking about the past is such a raw and vulnerable experience that having a paper and pen at the ready kind of ruins the process. My mom had a pretty rough childhood, and she didn't talk about it much when we were growing up (do most adults?) and so hearing it from her when I am now an adult really struck me. It struck me in the part of my brain that can't handle the idea of fleeting time.
The idea of eternity used to really freak me out. I mean, it doesn't STOP! Ever! But having babies, I realize now that I don't want this to stop, but it will in this life. My babies will grow up and move out and have families of their own. They will move to Wisconsin and Seattle and Des Moines and I will see them 2.4 times a year, and my heart will ache to hold them again.
Valerie Hudson once told me that her heaven would be eternally rocking her babies. I totally get that now. I love rocking them now, and I can't even imagine how much I will miss it when they grow up and no longer fit in my lap. Atticus is already almost there. And while I love his newfound independence and the four hours he's at preschool and the fact he can go potty by himself, I look back at baby Atticus and I cry every time. Because he's gone, the same but different and morphed into this man-child that I hardly recognize some mornings.