Some of my co-workers were recently discussing their older children, and were smiling ruefully as they recalled the years gone by, and how quickly they’ve flown.  David said “I already have anticipatory nostalgia” about his youngest, as he watches his child’s childhood disappear.

I can totally dig that.

My kid is only two (and a quarter, but hey, who’s counting?  Oh, right – that’s the point of this blog), and already I’m saying “HEY!  Let’s put on the brakes here!”  I see a newborn and I can’t believe my 31 lb. toddler was once only 8 lbs., 5 oz.  I look at her little bald baby pictures as I stroke her downy blonde hair.  I think about how she was so small, it was awkward to hold her.  Now she’s so long, it’s awkward to hold her.  I remember mouthing the vowels to her as I changed her diaper; now she says “thank you, Mommy!” as I change her diaper.

I now understand why people have more than one child.  Once the first baby hits two, you’re like, “wait, that went by too fast!  Let me try it again!  I’ll pay better attention this time!  I’ll revel, I swear!”  Of course, the second time you’re doubly exhausted, because now you also have a toddler vying for your time.  But people manage to do it.  Over and over.  God bless ya.

I think having my baby at a later point in my life has really driven home the need to live in the Now with her, to savor it, to be present as much as possible.  I don’t have the luxury of time, or the possibility of having another one (let’s be realistic; my last date was… when?).  Sometimes I get razzed for taking so many photos of her.  But I already see the months and years flying by, and with the quality of my short-term memory, I’m gonna need some visual aids to jar things in a few years.  HA!  I’m not kidding.

Over a decade ago, my friend “Sharon” had her first son.  She told me early on that she was already fretting about “empty nest syndrome,” imagining his eventual departure.  I think he was under a year old at the time.  As a single, self-absorbed person at the time, I couldn’t fathom what she was talking about.  I thought it was bizarre.  “She’s already crying at the thought of him leaving her… someday?  Like, eighteen years from now?”

I get it now, Sharon.

Anticipatory nostalgia isn’t as bad as retroactive nostalgia.  Because knowing ahead of time that you’re going to miss these current times helps you recommit to cherishing them now.  There’s no regret yet, no woulda/coulda/shouldas.  There’s still time to craft and perfect the experience you’ll be rerunning in your mind ad infinitum someday.  There’s still time to make the precious memories you’ll be smiling about in your dotage.  Or in my case, my fifties.  HA!  I’m not kidding. 

I think I’ll go make some Play-Doh animals with my daughter now…