There are many moments when I have no idea how I'm going to make it until their bedtime. The constant demands, the needs and the fighting are fingernails across the chalkboard every single day.

Be my baby -- not for long, and not forever, but for today -- and I promise that for this moment, I will be present and enjoy every single second of it.

Parenthood just keeps getting harder and harder and I'm not sure how prepared I am for the James Dean portion of the gig. I have no doubt in my mind that when he's 16, I'll be dying for the days of Thomas the Tank Engine and his insipid brethren.

If by age 9, my daughter already has a Kindle Fire, access to an iPad and has been to New York City twice and on and on, what is left for her to experience when she is older? Am I somehow setting her up for crushing disappointment?

My sons take their seats, the motor kicks on and the swings start turning to the right in a soft, careful circle. It is their spotlight. It is as wide as a slow dance and twice as wild. Their hearts beat accordingly. They pass me by again and again. The only thing that changes is the calendar.

You've stepped on one too many Legos. You've exhausted yourself trying to convince an illogical toddler to do something life sustaining, like eating. You've tried repeatedly and then failed to soothe a crying baby, a tantruming toddler or a neglected partner.

It can take moments like I had at that baptism to hit you up the side of the head and make you see that not only has time passed, but that you are wiser and better for it.

When my first son turned 6 years old, a new era began in our family. We were ushered quickly into the wonderful world of YMCA soccer. When you graduate from Gerber baby food to the fresh-cut grass pitch of the local Y soccer league, you're in for a treat.

I rest my head against his, clear my throat and begin singing, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." He interrupts, "You don't have to do that anymore. I'm getting too old for that now."

Each year, they become unrecognizable from the baby or child they were the year before. Each day is over before I've begun to take it in.

Children have such a short time to be kids and we, as parents, have even less until they don't need us anymore.