After my husband and I had our first daughter, we stuck to simple plans for the weekend: morning walks, casual lunches, and visits to the market in the neighborhood square.
Many times we would see little girls, no older than 2 or 3 years old, toddling around the market.
I would smile, leaning into my husband.
"Can you believe this tiny baby in our stroller will one day be running around like them?"
It felt a lifetime away, especially on those nights when I got no sleep.
But almost a year ago, my daughter started walking, and suddenly -- just like that -- she became one of those girls with tiny feet pitter-pattering across the square.
And that's the way it always is, isn't it?
The days are long. The sleepless nights seem endless. But the years... the years are so very short.
I know they are. Because a few days ago, I saw a father crossing the street with two girls who must have been around 6 and 8, and for an instant, I saw an image of my life down the line.
In my babies' place were two young girls walking hand in hand and I knew that day would come just as fast as the day my first daughter became one of those "girls walking in the market."
Despite its happiness, the scene scared me. It scared me to think that every precious moment I have with my girls will quickly pass.
But what breaks my heart is knowing how many times I've wished bath-time would come sooner. How many times I've been frustrated because my toddler was taking ages to fall asleep. Or how many nights I prayed my newborn would sleep for a longer stretch.
I don't want to wish away these years. But parenting can be so hard, you see. It can be draining -- emotionally and physically -- it's easy to focus on surviving instead of enjoy it.
Still, when I look back on these years, I want to have enough precious moments to fill my heart. I want to freeze these moments because before I know it, my daughters won't ask me to sing at bedtime and they won't still prefer early morning cuddles to sleeping-in. Slowly, running to me with arms wide open after school will stop and our afternoons in the garden picking rocks and splashing in puddles won't be enough fun anymore.
And all I will have then will be the memory of those ordinary but special moments.
With two little girls, the time slips through my hands even faster -- the good, the bad, the exhausting, the exhilarating, the fun and the boring -- it's all too fast.
When people ask how my new little one sleeps, I'm honest.
"She's not a good sleeper... but it goes by so fast even the sleepless night I have with her are precious. "
And I mean it.
Every moment is a treasure.
So when I saw those two young girls crossing the street and pictured my own, I couldn't help thinking of this song:
"Each time I see a little girl of five or six or seven
I can't resist the joyous urge to smile and say thank heaven
Thank heaven for little girls, for little girls get bigger every day
Thank heave for little girls, they grow up in the most delightful way"
They do...
They do get bigger every day.
But thank heaven I can hold mine in my arms a little more today. Thank heaven I can breath in their sweet baby smell just a little longer.
Because one day too soon, I will turn around and they will be leaving home to go to university.
They will be walking down the aisle into someone else's arms
And they will be the ones having a baby and starting families of their own.
Until those days come -- no matter how fast that may be - I will hold them close. I will hold them tight. I will watch them grow. Because even though it breaks my heart, I know I have to let them grow -- and let them go -- a little more each day.
