Of Tropical Storms and Time
2004-09-07, 9:18 p.m.

Well, here I sit, awash in memories while the skies echo the sentiments.

Son has a school project due on Thursday, a small family tree complete with a crest and motto of his own design. Naturally, since I provided him with a copy of the actual coat-of-arms for guidance, his version ignores it completely and is instead lifted totally from The Legend Of Zelda, which he plays on his Game Cube ad nauseum. Heavily shielded stick figures with battle-honed expressions display gleaming magical swords over the family motto, "Battle Royal". I'm sure his seafaring ancestors would be amused.

As I have managed to deflect the price-inflated, time-sucking obsession known as scrapbooking, all our photos are crammed into a huge plastic container that now weighs upwards of 70 lbs. I managed to wrestle it off a shelf and onto the floor, rummaging for family photos for the book. Inside were long-forgotten visages of my children when they were tots. And it brought on the guilt.

Daughter is the oldest by 2 years and 3 weeks. I had returned to work when she was 6 weeks old, out of necessity. My mother kept her for two years while I slaved at school, enjoying all the smiles and coos and even milestones, doing the bonding in my place. When Son came along, my mother flatly refused to attempt to handle two. Our financial picture was a bit rosier, so I was able to stay home to raise our children. I was able to enjoy Son in ways that I was not privileged with Daughter. Also, in contrast to fat cherubic little Son, Daughter appeared nearly full-grown. I fear that I treated her as such, expecting more from her than was reasonable and propelling her headlong into the role of "The Eldest". She was very verbal, making her seem older than her (very few) years. Back then, compared to Son, she seemed so...old. Looking back on the photos, she was only a baby herself.

I feel like I missed it. I lost her babyhood. I did not fully enjoy the little angel that was right in front of me. I was exhausted from the duties of motherhood, maintaining a household, and our move to another state when son was only a few months old. It went by so very fast.

Daughter is now 12, Son will be 10 in a couple of weeks, and it is still easy to treat them as older than they are. It's almost compelling to make Daughter a Junior Mom, pressing more responsibilities into her day and asking her to make judgement calls for which she may not be ready. Is she old enough to keep an eye on her brother? Sure. Is she old enough to truly babysit him, be solely responsible for his care and safety, as well as her own? No. She's a CHILD. I look at those long legs and big feet and see a young woman. I look at the old photos and snap back into the reality that she is, in fact, still a little girl. And Son is still a little boy.

If only I could do it again, go back and cherish every second, never once wish for them to be older so it would be easier to tend to them...to recapture the carefree innocent discoveries that comprised their entire little world...As that is not to be, I have to remember that they are still children, they have innumerable discoveries yet to make, and their worlds can still be innocent and carefree for just a little while longer. I'm not going to rush by these times. I'm not.

There were photos of my children with their grandparents, too many to count. Christmas mornings, afternoons at the beach, playing in the backyard, riding Big Wheels on the driveway. In many of them my dad is beaming behind a child in costume, my father-in-law grinning underneath a herd of children. Both my father and my father-in-law were diagnosed with cancer at the same time. Literally. Within 2 weeks of each other, in fact. Hubby had gone to see his father, whose doctors said would not survive. Survive he did, and Hubby came home for a few days to wrap up some things at work before heading back to be with his dad. It was during that 3-day hiatus that my daddy's cancer was discovered. My father fought for almost exactly a year before the illness won. My father-in-law beat the cancer only to have yet another battle, this time with Alzheimers. We are blessed to still have him with us, but we don't have him 100%. It's not the same. And it makes me sad.

But life goes on. Nothing is static. Relationships evolve, loved ones age, parents and grandparents pass away, children grow. That's how it's supposed to be. You can't live if you fear what's to come. Each day is a surprise. Each day will have good and bad; you just hope for and anticipate that it will be heavy on the good. And whatever comes your way, roll with it. If it's something rough, you'll be all the stronger once it's done.

Frances has spread her filmy edges and dribbled on us all day. Sometime tonight she is expected to pelt us with greater force. She can throw a tantrum for me. She can shed my tears. I can't live in the past, wishing and wanting and whining. The memories are great, brought back by the photos, paper rectangles of frozen time. I'm not going to spend the moments I have now by marinating in ones already gone. There's too much good right here, right now, begging to be enjoyed.

Daughter and Son are laughing. And everything is right with the world.

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