The Days are Long, The Years are Short

HH and I just had our tenth wedding anniversary at the end of July; for whatever reason, I seem to think of people's children in relation to how old they were at our wedding. It doesn't make much sense, but it's how I do it...

There was a gawky kind of awkward 12 year old boy at our wedding whom I danced with. That 12 year old is now 22, has a beautiful fiance, and a baby on the way. Um...how did that happen?

Another little one at our wedding was newly eight and just wanted to dance with the bride; she was a cute little blonde who ended up going home with all of my wedding jewelry (no worries, it was all fake and I made it ha ha) This little blonde? Well you guessed it, she's 18 and just started her freshman year at Iowa State. She's a Hawkeye now...how did that happen?

Yesterday was my sweet little biver bips, er, liver lips, er uh, godson Cameron's 11th birthday. ELEVEN! EEE-LEH-VIN! At my wedding? Well he wasn't there, but he was itty bitty and probably wearing his favorite camouflage onesie. I don't see him as an eleven year old, I see him as a little guy with a dish of spaghetti on his head, I see him as a toddler with the letter "K" from his magnetic alphabet pretending to spray things and clean them, I see him as a toothly 7 year old sprawled out on my bed reading Calvin and Hobbes. Not an 11 year old who can carry on a conversation with his Aunt Chrissi and actually make sense. Not an 11 year old who's headed toward puberty in a big way. Not an 11 year old who is closer to 18 than to being 1 (sorry Amanda, but it's true...)

And my own itty bitty, small, tiny, definitely not closer to 8 than 7 Gabriel McGoochenstein. The other night, he was so sick and ended up spiking a 105 fever. I was panicking because 105 is so high and he's so little...I called the doctor who calmly talked me through my hysterics (I tend to talk and talk and talk and talk and talk some more when I'm hysterical-I talk about 10 times as much as normal which is a lot anyway lol) He calmly asked "and how old is Gabe now?" I said "he's seven and a half and his fever...." he cut me off and said "relax mom, he's a big kid now, this isn't a big deal" I said "what do you mean, he's a BIG kid now? No he is not...ramble ramble". After I got off the phone I realized that the doctor was right, he IS a big kid now. He's no longer my itty bitty needs me for everything guy. He's almost 8; he doesn't even kiss me at the bus stop anymore for pete's sake.

How did this happen? How did ALL of these children, including my own, get so damn old? Furthermore, how did *I* get so damn old? When did this happen? As my mom is fond of saying "The days are long but the years are short" She's right, as usual and I'm betting she feels the same way about me...