I Know Time Flies: I’m Counting On It

If you’re a parent with young children, one thing you’ve probably heard ad nauseum, cheekily even, from your resident family member, neighbor, or passer-by in the store is that “The time flies by!” Usually punctuated by the needling, “Enjoy every moment!” or something tremendously saccharine to that effect. 

I can attest, as well as the many who have come before me and the countless who will come after, that there is nothing more grating than hearing that advice. It’s a double whammy of guilt and remorse, because more often than not, parents with young children are entirely in the trenches. 

More often than not, parents with young children are waking up hoping they can make it through the day, not with a spring in their step, a sunny outlook on life, and a burning desire to carpe diem. Honestly, I don’t know many people – with or without children – who live that way. 

So why are we doling out this advice to frazzled parents? Parents who, most likely, when they decided to have children, wanted nothing more than a life with every day filled with laughter, unconditional love, and the wonderment of watching little creatures become fully functioning humans. 

Because the reality of that is a far cry from the fantasy. Don’t get me wrong, I love having children. And those moments happen, they really do. My life is more fulfilled than I could have ever thought possible by having children. But those moments of joy are also bookended by a lot of noise, a lot of emotions, a steady stream of chaos, and an endless supply of mess. 

Well-meaning advice, yes, but it serves no other purpose than to create an emotional storm, one that often ends with the question, “What is wrong with me that I can’t even enjoy the day-to-day with my children?”

Time flies, it does. But that’s an adage that needs to be experienced, not intellectualized. And certainly not doled out in passing, however well-meaning it may be. 

The reason I bring this up is based on a recent conversation I had with a friend who has two children under the age of 4. It’s an impossible period, and she’s doing her absolute best – and thriving, I might add – in nurturing her two little ones. 

But I can hear the exhaustion in her voice – not just physical tiredness, but emotional, mental, and soul-tiredness as well. Because at the end of the day, nobody can truly relate to her. Nobody is walking a day in her shoes. Not her close friends, not her husband, not her family members. Nobody can do it. 

And that’s a terrible kind of lonely. One that I remember well. 

I could talk to my friends who had children of the same age. Commiserate with the other moms at preschool. Talk to my mother, have her swing by for help. But I was the one walking that path every single day. And those moments of solitude – each face wiped, each tantrum quelled, each stitch of clothing laundered, each book read, and each little body tucked in at night – pile up. Compound. Until you can be surrounded by all the help in the world and still feel utterly alone. 

It’s a reckoning of the identity, too. You become so enmeshed in the everyday of parenting young children that it’s all you are – even when you try to do other things, like work, socialize, or pursue hobbies. Because there’s one thing you always return to, and that’s your children and being a parent. 

I was consumed by it. I assumed it was my forever. But slowly – so slowly, I didn’t even notice – that constant drag into the deep end of parenting young children loosened until I could surface again. Until I could feel my identity coming back, and I was a separate and whole person in addition to being a parent. 

The transformation was so subtle that it didn’t even strike me until I was having this conversation with my friend and remembering the chaos of the early years of having children. 

So yes. Time flies. That’s something you can – and should – count on.  

Note: This is an opinion article as designated by the the category placement on this website. It is not news coverage. If this disclaimer is funny to you, it isn’t aimed at you — but some of your friends and neighbors honestly have trouble telling the difference.