Blink.

They warn you. Or they try to at least.

The days are long, but the years are short. And the first few times you hear it, you roll your eyes. You gasp and think, “What do they know?” as you are knee deep in diapers and babies and mess.

And then one day you blink and realize you are them. Or at least you’re on your way there.

And you stop, pause, and wonder how you got here. Or there.

I wished the days away sometimes. Which seems silly after all the years we prayed for these sweet misters. I wanted to blink and suddenly know that we had handled everything perfectly and the days were knit together with simplicity and ease.

I want to go back in time and remind myself that time does fly so quickly. That in one moment you are suddenly parenting a not-so-tiny human being who has thoughts, opinions and strong feelings. That  baby who no longer wakes up every other hour looking for you, but instead spends time away from you throughout the day with probably not much of a second thought.

Last week, we decided to venture to Disney World  in a quest for warmer weather and family time. We were met with both and I wanted nothing more than to squeeze every ounce of each day out. We spent hours on our feet or with our arms circling tired bodies from a long day of walking and adventure or carrying little ones on our shoulders to see just over the crowd. And while we both agreed it was tiresome and taxing at times, I started to think that this could be it for this stage with them.

If we come next year, would Charlie still want to be comforted in the same way when he fell? Would Jack still require “snuggle breaks” after reaching his breaking point right before a long overdue nap? Would we suddenly find that the “chore” of holding their little bodies close was no longer necessary?

And so we held them a bit longer even when we were tired and it pained our bodies. I squeezed them a bit tighter because we are suddenly in the stage where we just don’t know if a year from now they will need us in the same way.

And the realization that I might have blinked already.