Time frikkin' flies

So where does the time go anyway?

It’s already October 1. This means Halloween’s coming, and then it will be Thanksgiving and then I’ll be participating with Anita in our annual argument over whether to buy a real tree from the lot near the grocery store or go through the frustrating experience of trying to assemble a fake tree using the assorted parts stuffed in six oversized black garbage bags in the basement.

Seems like yesterday I was embarrassing my children by mowing my lawn sans shirt. Seems like it wasn’t too long ago that I was trying to fix the Weed Whacker so we could access the house again through the front door, which was no longer visible from the street because several overgrown, tree-sized weeds had taken over what we generously refer to as our front “garden.” Seems like a few weeks ago the kids were anxious for school to stop and summer to start – and they’ve already settled into their new classes in their new grades at their new schools.

Where does the time go?

Seems like yesterday I was 175 pounds, able to eat and drink whatever I wanted without consequences, able to function on a few hours of sleep, and enjoying a gray-free head of hair and the financial freedom that comes with being single, unattached and gainfully employed. Seems like it wasn’t too long ago that there were more years ahead of me than behind me, knock on wood, and I still had the ability to come and go as I pleased.

Seems like yesterday that the kids couldn’t go to sleep unless I cuddled with them first. Then they just wanted a kiss and a hug. Now it doesn’t even matter if I come upstairs.

Seems like yesterday that I was coming up with costumes for Halloween parties and buying Christmas gifts for others in the office. Now I pass out candy to neighborhood kids while Anita takes Maya and Devina trick-or-treating – Nikita and Bryant are on their own – and since I work from home, the only adult I see from 9:00 to 5:00 is the postal carrier; she doesn’t even get out of her truck.

Seems like just yesterday politics was still a noble profession, government still worked and a sense of community still existed in most locales. Seems like it wasn’t too long ago that songs had clever, poetic lyrics, laptops cost more than refrigerators, and children could walk home from their bus stops without parental escorts.

I now enter the holiday season excited about the possibilities and worried about the finances. All parents – even the non-consumption-oriented ones – want their children to have the holiday of their dreams and we’re no different. I want the kids to be happy with what they receive and to realize that the season is about more than Optimus Prime helmets and X Box games. But I want them to be happy and excited and elated and rewarded for being so good all year, and to have a Christmas that they’ll never forget, even when the time starts to fly and spring turns into summer and summer to fall in the blink of an eye.

I also want them to start helping with the snow shoveling. Seems like just yesterday it was no big deal; I could handle our driveway, sidewalks and even the next-door neighbor’s property in 75 minutes. Now I need to take more than a few catch-my-breath breaks and I’m absolutely exhausted when I crawl back into the house two-and-a-half hours later, unable to speak or stand upright.

Where does the time go?