This morning, at 6:45, my baby turned 5 years old. This past weekend we had a fun-filled, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Party, but today has hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m reminded of an article I read a few weeks ago that pointed out that there are exactly 940 Saturdays between a child’s birth and his 18th birthday. Even more overwhelming is the realization that with Jack, 260 of those are already gone. Now, granted, some folks could hear this and fly into a full tailspin at the realization of the quickly passing time, but it’s not really about that for me. Sure, it does make me keenly aware that each of the Saturdays with my little guy are painfully numbered, but more than that, it encourages me to make the most of the time I do have with him. I know these Saturdays will quickly pass us. My hope is that he can one day look back at all these and have something exciting and fun remember. I want him to have REAL memories from his childhood, like I do.
My wish is that one day he’ll look back on all the Saturdays and he’ll remember the ones where we made homemade popsicles and played football in the yard until the lightening bugs came out. I hope he remembers the early morning trips to the doughnut shop or waking up early to make his mommy breakfast in bed. I want him to remember every single birthday party he ever has – be they themed Sesame Street, baseball, superhero, or whatever the next cool thing to come along is. I hope he remembers the Saturday we spent chasing lizards and toads around the yard and can remember the feeling of his amazement at God’s incredible world around us. I hope he can remember the Saturday night bath where his mommy filled the tub with so many bubbles that we could barely see him in there. I hope he’ll remember the Saturdays we spent on family vacations in the mountains of Tennessee or at Disney World. I hope he will remember the Saturdays we spent with his great-great-grandmother. Many kids are never fortunate enough to have the opportunity to meet great-greats. From baseball, to shopping, to the times we built a sheet fort in the living room and watched movies all day…
Most of all, I just want him to remember.
But, I’m afraid much of this won’t stick in his mind. And my fear is that one day, he’ll see his old man as just that… an old man. Eventually I’ll lose my super hero status and my kisses won’t make boo-boos better anymore. And there will come a time when my aging brain will no longer allow me to revel in these memories either. But for now, the Saturdays I do have with him will be ones that I will try my hardest to make the best of. It’s a lot of pressure, but I’m not willing to miss something amazing or amazingly simple with my little boy. I’ve got 680 Saturdays left… Happy Birthday, baby boy!
Someday, he’ll be a big-time movie star
or a fifth grade English teacher.
Someday he’ll marry,
have a few kids.
Maybe he won’t.
Someday, he’ll change the world as we know it.
Or maybe he’ll travel,
send postcards from China.
Someday, he’s going to be a big strong man,
able to carry you in his arms.
One day, he’ll have his own hopes and dreams,
not knowing that once upon a quiet time
you closed your eyes and made a wish
to one day have him in your life.
Y’all this recipe just screams fall to me! And while these easy apple fritters are good just dusted with a little powdered sugar, the Honey Cinnamon Cream Cheese is really what makes them special! Y’all enjoy!