Tempus fugit

It's nothing new, how these months keep going by faster and faster, the years whizzing past so quickly it's hard to keep them in focus. Modern life may exacerbate the situation, but the lamenting of the fleeing of time is as old as...well, time itself.

Then there are those days that shove the proverbial calendar in my face, "CHECK IT OUT! TIME IS PASSING! AND YOU CAN'T GET IT BACK!"

Today was one of those days. My baby boy turned nine.

NINE.

Tomorrow he finishes third grade.

THIRD GRADE.

It was the first thing I thought of when I awoke, "It's my boy's birthday today. Tomorrow he finishes third grade." As it turns out his birthday was also a huge day for the entire third grade class; I spent most of the day at school watching their productions, hanging out in his classroom, jumping from shady spot to shady spot during the end of the year picnic. My daughter was with me, and she spent much of the day pointing at her big brother and calling out (inappropriately but in that way that makes everyone around her go, "AAAWWWW!"), "That's my BROTHER!" She was a trooper.

After the picnic, I lugged her, our picnic paraphernalia , my camera, our waters and the rest of the crap I had with me the half mile back to our car while she snuggled into me. Her tired arms circled my neck and her sweaty head snuggled against my cheek while the corner of a Dora the Explorer book that stuck out of a bag over my shoulder kept poking my triceps with each step (after the same bag banged into my thigh...WHY did I bring my lead weights with me?), I knew* I was going to drop my 2K worth of camera/flash that I was barely holding onto, I stank from the hours outdoors, and I was terrified that my kids were going to be up all night with a sunburn**.

Nevertheless, I reveled in how sweet she is, how sweet my boy is, how much I love my life and where I live, how amazing my husband is and how I love him, how lucky I am in general (sure, part of me was trying to distract myself from my physical discomfort but really I was just marveling about how flipping LUCKY I am).

Why are those moments of utter joy so fleeting? I would think that we'd hold onto the joy, what with how fast tempus does fugit. But I know I spend far too much time complaining. My friends complain. My husband complains. My kids complain. Why are we all complaining so much about the little things that comprise our daily lives, then also complaining about how fast time flies?

* I didn't
** Nope, they fell asleep promptly once in bed and their fair skin was still see-through.