by Cathy
Laying in bed the other night trying to fall asleep, my mind rattled off tasks and errands for the next day, skipping haphazardly over the stepping stones of my random thoughts and rather suddenly, into some deep water in the form of a panic attack.
I was thinking about what I have to do to prepare for Bella's upcoming 11th birthday party, then quickly freaked out because she's past the 10-year mark, then quickly comforted that thought with the fact that Ari is still only five. But wait! That means she 's going to be SIX? In three months? No, no no! That's not so little anymore! She will no longer be wearing toddler sizes but size 6X! With one tiny step, she'll be leaving Toddlerland and quickly heading into Teenagerville, where she'll meet up with Bella and conspire to move out within the year. I could see it all now...
So I lay in my bed crying waterfall tears and muffling heavy wails because these thoughts were tailspinning me into a lonely place. Joe was snoring away next to me, blissfully unaware that his girls are all grown up already. I desperately wanted to run into their bedroom and sprinkle desperate kisses all over their foreheads, eyebrows, eyelids, nose, cheeks, lips, chin, ears and hair and then slide under their covers, hold them tight, so they wouldn't dare grow another inch, and watch them sleep. Instead, I chose to not scare the crap out of them and took three deep breaths, calmed myself down and promised to take in every minute of every age - which is something I remind myself of on a daily basis.
Ari has been obsessed with movies ever since she could sit still long enough to see one through. And when she finds a movie she loves, she loves it over and over again until we are all inevitably reciting the words to the whole movie by heart. Her first major obsession (at age three) was Bee Movie. Then it was Madagascar. Then Enchanted. Then Ice Age. Then Despicable Me. Lately - and by this I mean, the past year - she has been infatuated with Mamma Mia!
That movie has taken up precious space on our DVR for the last year. Just the other day, Joe told me, "Dude, if I hear those Mamma Mia! songs one more time I'm gonna go nuts. What is it about that movie and Ari? Let's just erase it."
"No way!" I defensively responded, protecting my young. "Ari would KILL us if we erased it! Just leave it on. She loves it."
And sure enough, later that same night, she asked me to play it off the DVR for her. See??? Mamma knows best.
There's a wedding prep scene in the movie where the mother of the girl getting married sings "Slipping Through My Fingers" while polishing her daughters' toenails, styling her hair, helping her with her jewelry and all the other motherly moments that should be shared before she lets go of her baby so she can go off and become that special person in someone else's life.
When the first few notes of that song reverberate off our television screen, they travel through the house, grab me by the heart and pull me towards it. By now, Ari waits for me to walk into the living room where she is sitting - usually alone, because we have all seen the movie 3,258 times - and take her into my lap to squeeze her close.
"This song makes you cry, doesn't it mom," she always says. So we sing and hum and rock back and forth together and sure enough when it's over, she turns to search my face. "Let me see your tears," she says in a quasi-cocky tone. And when I don't disappoint her, she bows her head into mine and sits with me.
And then you wonder why I don't want them to grow up? Because I won't get moments like these very often. Because the innocence and sincerity won't be heard in their words anymore. Because they won't hold my hand throughout an entire field trip in a museum in front of all their friends (and boys!) anymore. Because they won't insist on sitting with you, and only you, on the bus ride home from that field trip. Because they won't request to sit on your lap while you're visiting their classroom anymore, either.
She leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye
With an absent-minded smile
I watch her go
With a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that I'm loosing her forever
And without really entering her world
I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl
Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Sleep in our eyes
Her and me at the breakfast table
Barely awake
I let precious time go by
Then when she's gone
There's that odd melancholy feeling
And a sense of guilt
I can't deny
What happened to the wonderful adventures
The places I had planned for us to go
Well some of that we did
But most we didn't
And why I just don't know
Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
And save it from the funny tricks of time
Slipping through my fingers -
Schoolbag in hand
She leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile...
