There is no pause button

On Monday, Zack will be one. In May, Jake will be four. He starts school in September. It’s going far too quickly.

Sometimes, I wish there was a pause button. To soak up these times. To enjoy them being small for longer.

My boys are my world. I love them with all that I am. And I know that they are MY boys, and I am supposed to love them with all that I am, and treasure the time I spend with them. But I struggle to understand why other people can’t make time for them. Not when they have time for everyone else.

Jake, he understands things. He understands broken promises. He remembers that we are going to Thomas Land soon. He understands we are going on holiday to a farm. He understands that soon, Daddy is going to take him camping. He understands these things because I talk to him about them, so he remembers.

But just as easily, he forgets. If he doesn’t see someone for a long time, he forgets them.

Zack, he’s nearly one. He’s crawling, he’s walking around the furniture, he has a personality. He throws a strop if he doesn’t get his own way. But he’s so smiley, and happy. And he’s growing, so fast.

And I can’t pause it. There is nothing I can do to slow it down. But I’m here, I’m watching, I’m drinking it all in. I’m not missing out.

There is no pause button. They grow. They change. There is nothing I can do.

There is no pause button.

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