People keep saying to me, "Enjoy this time!" referring to Sawyer's baby-hood. And just this morning I cried for 10 minutes when I realized that he'll be getting teeth in a mere 2 months(ish). But here's the real thing about being a parent: time becomes completely irrelevant. It's like Einstein would have had totally different theories if he had been a parent. There is no space-time continuum when a child is involved.
Sure, the popular notion that time just goes too quickly is still valid. Sawyer will be 5 months old on Monday. Who knew 5 months could actually fly by? So much has happened in 5 months, but I can still remember (muscle memory included) how it felt to sit in the back of the car on the way to the hospital October 29th, hating every minute and every bump.
But as soon as he starts crying, or at 1:30 in the morning when he wakes himself up screaming, every second ticks by like a bad slow-motion film maneuver. He's sad. He refuses to be comforted, for all of 5 minutes. But during those 5 minutes I manage to convince myself that this moment is going to determine the rest of his life. Because I let him cry he will grow up an untrusting deviant who believes his mother never truly loved him so how could he find love for the rest of the world????
And then it's over. He farts long and loud, and smiles at me as if I was the one to relased the pressure valve on his tiny tummy. He coos, tilts his head, and squints his eyes as his empty gummy mouth opens to smile and laugh. Why can't this moment feel as long as the last one? I just want to hold that exact second in my heart forever. But soon enough, the poop follows the fart and it's wipes and diapers everywhere and life moves on. I look up and it's 9pm already, time for the tubby and bedtime. Then all is quiet and I punch the "mom" time clock (for a few hours at least), and I miss him and can't wait for the next day to start again.