Somebody is now 5 in my house. How the heck did that happen?
In the weeks after Eve was born, my husband and I took out a 5-year certificate of deposit at a local bank. I remember so clearly looking at Eve snoozing in her car seat while we filled out the paperwork, and remarking that when this CD came due, Eve would be about ready to start kindergarten. It seemed a lifetime away.
I got a letter in the mail last week reminding me the CD was maturing.
And, watching her now, so has my daughter, I realized.
The night before Eve’s birthday, I lay in bed and flashed back through the last five years. I pictured her as a brand-new baby in my arms, a dancing toddler in a purple sundress, a big sister about to start preschool. I wished I could remember more of the last 1,800-some days, wondering what mundane wonderfulness I’ve already let escape my memory.
It’s an odd combination of emotions we parents feel simultaneously, nostalgia for our children’s past, excitement for their future. I so often need to remind myself to stay in the present.
To stop and take a breath, and help my daughter blow out five candles on her birthday cake.