"Life Moves Pretty Fast"

Not being the most coordinated girl on the block, I stuck to independent activities in high school – like golf, running, and the Arts – things that could be done without disappointing anyone if I led the team to a loss.

My one true love was running. I loved the way it cleared my head when there was too much to think or worry about. And I loved the way it made me feel each time I ran – so much healthier and more productive.

Once I got married, I began running marathons. As I trained, I would push the kids in the stroller as far as I could go without one of them crying hysterically because they wanted to get out and walk.

But in the last few years, running seemed to fall by the wayside. I was getting home too late from school each night. Even if I wasn’t getting home too late, it would have been an enormous feat to take a run with three children. Once home – the dinner and bedtime routine would begin. Then, it was just too dark for a woman to run by herself at night, even if my husband was home and could stay with the kids.

On the days when it was still light outside, there really wasn’t any way to take my little guys running with me (unless Matt was home). And the kids were just getting too big to be pushed in a jogging stroller. Riding beside me on a bike would be a great idea – if they could keep up without my helping them pedal along. With so many hurdles to jump over in order to take a run as the mom of three young boys - my once favorite pastime fell by the wayside.

I wasn’t going to worry because the boys would grow up in the blink of an eye and one day I would have time to fit this activity back into my schedule. Or better yet – one day, the kids would be able to run with me. One day…

Little did I know, that THAT one day would happen sooner than I would think.

This past weekend, my oldest son was hanging out by himself, not playing with his little brothers. Matt was home and could watch the other two on the slip and slide while he worked in the yard, so I had a thought.

“Do you want to go for a walk, Bonk (my nickname for L.)?” 

“Just the two of us?” he asked.

“Yep,” I replied.

“Ah, sure,” said L.

I’m not going to lie, I was a little surprised. I figured he would say “no” and would want to stay home and play.

But he wanted to go. And there we were. Walking and talking. And L. was trying very hard to keep up while he talked about none other than Minecraft.

Enough about Minecraft, I thought. It was time for a challenge.

“Want to race?” I asked.

“Sure!” said L. “Where to?”

“Just to that fire hydrant over there.”

“Okay,” L. said.

Suddenly, L.’s little legs went faster than I had ever seen them move. Right before my eyes, my seven-year-old was beating me.

It was hard to believe that he was really passing by me. My little guy was all grown up. I never thought this day would come when I would actually be running with my son by my side. Where did the time go, I thought?

Suddenly, as L. ran passed me, all the moments of the past flew by as well – all the moments that were difficult – all the moments that I never thought we would get through – the years of infertility, a tough birth, an even tougher few months of colic and sleepless nights, and months of physical therapy for L's torticollis.

For one instant – all of those long minutes, days, weeks, months, flashed in front of me. And when we reached the finish line, I stared at my grown up boy with wonder. We laughed and laughed and high-fived each other.


He had done it! Not only had L. reached the finish line – beating his mama fair and square – but he and Matt and I had gotten to the other side too. We had made it to the side when you almost forget how tough everything used to be. We had made it to the side when we could stare at a happy and healthy boy, proud of everything he has accomplished and continues to accomplish. We had made it to the side when we realized that while getting through certain phases (colic, terrible feeding schedules, sleepless nights, potty-training, difficult pre-school drop-offs, and therapy) with a child seemed like they would never pass, that they actually did pass.

That famous saying that my grandmother used to say to me and that my mom still says to me to this day – “This too shall pass” – rang loud and clear for me that day when L. flew passed me.

It’s a saying that I always try to remember each time we reach a new and difficult phase with each of our children. And it’s one that we ALL (no matter the age of our child) should remember on a daily basis.

Let’s try to remember not to stress out (it’s not easy to do – believe me, I know this) and to remember that whatever phase we are going through – “This too shall pass.”

I challenge you. I challenge myself. Take in every single moment of parenthood – the good and the bad because...

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.”

-Ferris Bueller