The Parenting Hourglass & thoughts about graduation

Nothing lights a bigger fire under us than a short timeline…and nothing makes us more lackadaisical than infinite hours. Type B persons like myself can procrastinate, plan to do things “later”, postpone projects to next week, but if you tell me that guests are arriving in thirty minutes, I can accomplish an amazing amount of deep cleaning in half an hour. Sometimes we just need a little pressure to make every minute count! It’s why people can travel to four countries on one vacation but never visit the tourist spots in their own hometowns. It’s why we scurry to go on dates with our spouses before they deploy, then wonder why we did not do it on a regular basis. We need a flipped hourglass to give us perspective.

I have realized that the same rule applies to parenting, too. I always heard older mothers telling me to treasure time with my kids “because it passes so quickly.” But I remember looking at my screaming two year-old who, God willing, would live with me another sixteen years until adulthood and the 5,840 days looming ahead of us seemed quite sufficient. The hourglass of sand looked like a semi-truck that would bury me alive if it ever tipped over. Plenty of time!

The truth is- even if we consciously try to carpe the diem it’s almost impossible to cherish all the little moments with our children because they are often not extraordinary. We cook, change diapers, shop for groceries, sit at the kitchen table, watch television in the living room, etc. Later, we pack lunches, drive kids to school and stand watch on the side of the soccer field. While I always felt grateful for the life given to me, I never spent three hours a day writing in a gratitude journal. Life needed to be tackled and I was on the offensive! And besides, forever loomed in front of us…or so it seemed… until the maternal prophecies shone true. 

Surely and quietly, our days and years passed until one morning I looked up to see that the semi-truck of time had diminished to a small Tonka truck sitting on the coffee table. After that, a matchbox car, then a little hourglass timer you might find in a game of Taboo or Trivial Pursuit. And the sand was falling quickly. A fire lit under me and it was screaming “Cherish it all ‘because it passes so quickly’!!” And now I am, every single day, because seasons don’t last forever, especially in parenting.

As my oldest prepares to graduate high school and leave for college this summer, I find myself alert and ready to make every minute count. There is no dawdling or procrastination, it is short term syndrome in the BEST way. Now, sitting at the kitchen table or watching television with all my kids in the same room brings me tremendous joy. Shopping and running to Costco take on special meaning as we complete the chores together. One of my kids is kicking the ball for the last time, another one nears the final curtain call on her dance performances. And as our family hourglass runs dangerously low, I smile with a grateful heart knowing that our 5,840+ days together were a true TREASURE. The mundane turned out to be extraordinary after all. 

So, in these final moments before the last grain of sand falls to the bottom of the glass, we stand on the sidelines with our hearts racing and our emotions high. All the years of joy and heartache and exhaustion and exhilaration are coming around the bend, racing towards Graduation Day and the crowd is screaming and we are jumping up and down (and crying at the same time) shouting “Go! Go! Go!” but wanting to yell “Stay! Stay! Stay!” My kid is smiling her beautiful smile and running full speed with her list of dreams in hand and our hearts are bursting with pride and thanksgiving for the last lap of an amazing race. “Only seconds left on the hourglass!!” we yell. “Make it count!!”

And as the tears stream down my face, I look past the finish line and see a shape vaguely forming in the fog. It’s big. I don’t recognize it. Looking closer I realize it’s another hourglass- larger, broader, a different color than the first one- but BEAUTIFUL. It sits, ready and waiting to be turned over, another semi-truck of time gifted to us. So with grateful smiles, my family joins hands with each other, walks slowly towards the glass cylinder and grabs the shiny, new handle.

“Flip it over” I say. “Let’s get started.”

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Hugs to all the parents out there who are cheering (and crying) for their graduates. We are in this together,