My oldest daughter just turned eighteen. That’s approximately 6,570 days. Where did the time go? It seems like just yesterday that we were bringing her home from the hospital in a car seat that was more than likely not secured properly. Someone once said, “The days are long and the years fly by.” Truer words have never been spoken. It seems surreal to fully comprehend that my baby is old enough to, among other things, serve in the military, rent a car, initiate legal action, buy a lottery ticket and purchase a house. Additionally, in November of 2016, she’ll be able to vote for Donald Trump, Hilary Clinton or whomever she feels will best serve the office as President of the United States. It seems like just yesterday she was deciding on which of her American Girl dolls would get to go on vacation with us.
The year was 1997, and on a crisp fall day in October, after eighteen hours of labor, my wife and I were blessed with a beautiful baby girl. I’ll freely admit that my wife did most of the heavy lifting that day, but I did secure more than my share of ice chips. Hannah (a name we both loved) Kathryn (after my mother) Copeland came into the world at approximately 10:18 pm. As excited as we both were to meet her, I did appreciate that we were able to watch most of the Giants/Dodgers game while we waited for her arrival. Once she showed up we laughed, we cried and I thanked God that she was healthy and safe.
Once we brought Hannah Banana home from the hospital, without an instruction manual no less, we were quick to realize that we knew virtually nothing about raising an infant. We spent a fair amount of time those first few days on the phone with the advice nurse from Valley-Care Medical Center. Luckily, we had met several wonderful families in our Lamaze class who also didn’t know anything about infants either, so together we muddled through those first few months. There’s strength in numbers. Despite our bumbling and fumbling, our little miracle ate, slept and pooped her way to becoming a toddler, then a little girl, a tween and ultimately a teenager. Today, as a young adult, she continues to amaze me everyday.
In 1999, we were blessed once again with a second daughter. Claire (another name we both loved) Diane (a favorite aunt of my wife) Copeland was born on a warm summer day in July at approximately 10:18 am. When we arrived at the hospital around 8:00 am, the day of her arrival, we naturally assumed we had a full day of contractions (breathing, screaming and ice chips) before we would make her acquaintance. Little did we know, she had other plans and before I could even unpack our soothing Kenny G CD, she was lying under the incubator lights due to a touch of jaundice. I dare not mention her crossed eyes. Fortunately for Claire Bear, this wasn’t our first rodeo. Her sister had taught us so much about nursing, changing, bathing and the soothing tranquility of a bouncy chair, that we were almost professionals the second time around. Her maturation has also progressed with astonishing speed. She too has become a teenager and just this past summer took up the sport of driving. Am I the only one that thinks sixteen years old is too young to operate a moving vehicle independently? Can’t we all agree that a full year of tandem driving with a learner’s permit would be a good thing? What’s the rush?
At the risk of oversimplifying, being a parent is a tremendous amount of work. It’s a never-ending stream of long days, sleep deprived nights, chauffeur-filled weeks, entertaining and exhausting vacations, difficult phases and plenty of growing pains. Fortunately, there’s also more joy that you could ever think humanly possible. In my evolution from Diaper Genie, to curling irons, bath time to privacy in the bathroom, bedtime to curfews, play dates to real dates, first words to smart-phones, alphabet to SAT, strollers to tricycles–scooters to bikes and first steps to driver’s licenses, the time has flown by in the blink of an eye. When I look back on photos covering the past eighteen years, I remember my parents saying, “appreciate everyday,” but somehow I didn’t. At times, I long for the innocence, unconditional love and tender moments that I shared when my girls were little. Innocence lost is a term that I have come to appreciate as they begin to face real life struggles and challenges that come with age.
Don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying where my girls are at this stage of their lives. Hannah is enjoying the various activities connected to her senior year of high school, considering her college options and working a job. Claire is a junior, a dynamite swimmer and an equally good student. Both girls have a witty sense of humor, are respectful and responsible and act maturely… except when they don’t. We can talk about a wide variety of world topics (politics, sports, religion), but we had a few equally interesting conversations when the topics were Barbies, Play-Doh and all things Disney. Did you know that Play-Doh was first introduced to public schools in Cincinnati, Ohio, as a modeling compound, in the mid-1950s?
The supersonic progression of the girls’ school years is what amazes me the most. As quickly as elementary school (K-5) flew by, the three years of middle school are a blur. Fortunately, thanks to Friday night football and basketball games, proms and homecomings, driver’s education and college applications, the time from freshman to senior year is somewhat more interactive for parents.
To my friends with sons, who have a different set of rules, obstacles and concerns, time does not move slower for them. It has been said that raising girls is easier when they are young and more difficult as they get older and boys are the opposite. Regardless if this is true, children are children and they all grow up too fast. A lyric from the song Young Turks, by the legendary Rod Stewart, goes something like; “Life is so brief and time is a thief, when you’re undecided and like a fist full of sand it can slip right through your hand.” I have no doubt that this is how Billy Ray Cyrus feels every time he watches his daughter Miley in Hannah Montana reruns.
One day, in the not too distant future, I will assuredly long for the memories of this time in my daughters’ lives. When they are eventually married with children of their own, I’ll undoubtedly miss these teenage years. It probably goes without saying that we should all appreciate that our children are growing up and there’s nothing we can do to slow down the march of time. I may just be a simple Twitter philosopher, but I believe we should live, laugh and love with our kids and appreciate every minute together. Whatever time in their lives that should happen to be.
Great Article !