Timing

Do you know when I really notice how quickly time passes?  It's when I buy milk.

I reach into the cooler, pull out a jug, and look at the number stamped near the neck.  It's a necessary habit for someone who lives in a small town and shops at a mom-and-pop shop.  Sometimes the milk has been sitting in the refrigerator for a while; sometimes, a new shipment has arrived and the milk will be good for weeks.

When I consider the date, I often think, "Wow, are we nearing that spot on the calendar already?"  Or, sometimes, I think about everything that will happen, all that must be done before the date stamped on the carton.

It's so true what every person older than me advises: Time just passes more quickly the older you get.  My kids are so excited for Christmas, opening each door of the Advent calendar and wishing the days away.  I remember being like that-- kind of... sort of... not really... not as much as I would like.  Now, I just stare wildly and ask, "It's December ALREADY?!"

And it's not just December... not just a couple jugs of milk... it's life.

Some days may feel as though they are passing with the most excruciating slowness, as when I am trapped at home with a sick child whose only desire is to sit on top of me while I have no choice but to breathe in her virus-laden air.  (The fact that she is currently marching around me in circles, toting an electric guitar and screaming "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" is what I would call evidence of a return to health.)  But, when you put those days-- even the slow days, especially the slow days-- end-to-end, they make up years that speed by in blurry streaks.

I just have to shake my head and ask, "When?  How?" when I see a scene like this:

Yes, that is my 10-year-old, video-calling her grandfather to get help with her pre-algebra homework.  Never mind the fact that they live only 10 miles apart and I probably could have arranged to get them together the "old-fashioned way."  She thinks the technology is cool, and I think it's cool they both know how to use it.  But the scene stuns me because of where that time went:

MY 10-year-old, is video-calling her grandfather to get help with her pre-algebra homework.
*I have a 10-year-old.  That makes me the mother.
*She has a grandfather.  That guy is supposed to be my dad.
*Normal, non-Trekkie people like us can video chat, on a Tuesday, in the toy room.
*She is learning pre-algebra.  This is a near-impossibility because she was just born... and I'm not even sure how that happened, because shouldn't that make me a teenage mother?