The Days Are Long

The days are long and the years are short

That’s what they say, anyway

But the days feel short too

I get you ready for the day

Change your diaper, give you a bottle, brush your two teeth, comb your hair, dress you. 

While I haven’t showered in days, have morning breath, and have a rats nest forming in my hair. 

You try a new food. 

You smear yogurt all over your face, throw your banana covered cup on the floor for the dog to clean up, and scream when I don’t get you out of your high chair fast enough. 

I still have morning breath, and now have oatmeal and yogurt smeared on my sweatshirt. 

You nap

You’re tired from the morning, fussy, brow turning read, tears in your eyes. We lay you down with your pacifier, your favorite blanket, right between mom and dad. 

All I can think about are the dishes in the sink, the mildewy laundry that needs to be re washed, and your crib waiting for us to put together. 

But your gummy smile creeps into my mind. And the way you jabber when we talk to you. I hear your laugh and how it increases every time we laugh in response. I think of how happy you are. 

The days are short and the years are shorter. I don’t know if anyone says that. 

you won’t always be this little. 

So I will change your clothes for the fourth time, when you inevitably pee through your diaper. I will pick you up when you are screaming and mad that there are no more snacks. You can sleep on my arm as it goes numb, and I stop thinking of the never ending todo list. I will hold you tight and remember that when it feels like the house isn’t clean enough, the laundry pile is getting bigger, and the food needs to be cooked, all you wanted was for me to hold you. I will cherish this fleeting moment.