I remember during one particularly tough phase of my son's first few months when he had colic, someone said to me 'This too shall pass' - and of course it does.
I see it quite often in parenting groups; someone will ask for advice on dealing with some tricky new hurdle and usually, all we can say is, hang in there, it's just a phase, this too shall pass.
But do we ever stop to remember that the good things too shall pass? The little stages we love, their little quirks, the new thing they've discovered they can do. They change so fast because life is busy passing and we're constantly just trying to catch up with ourselves.
All of the little things they do that may seem inconsequential at the time, you might not even notice them. But I've only been a parent now for two years and already I want it to slow down. I want to remember all the little things about them that make me cry with laughter, or cry with frustration.
The things that make my heart want to jump out of my chest with pride and love. All of it.
Recently I was asked by a friend of mine to help put into words a way to describe his new venture in photography - a documentary style 'day in the life'.
While doing it, it made me focus on my own life with my two boys. And it made me realise I seem to be in a constant state of waiting for things to pass.
Waiting for the colic to pass, waiting for his tantrum to calm, waiting for baby to settle for the night so I might get a few hours sleep myself. I don't mean to sound like I don't enjoy all this - of course, I do.
But I realised that I hardly ever stop to actually look around me, to appreciate fully and more often just what it is we have been given. Especially since there was a time when we thought we'd never have any of this at all when we were told we'd need IVF. It's always thinking of what job needs to get done next, what dinner needs to be cooked, what day the next round of vaccinations need to be given, the next time one is due a feed and one is due a dinner.
So I decided to stop and look and started writing. When they're all grown up, what will I want to remember?
1. How things feel
The softness of a little baby cheek, like a soft downy feather. The little grip of his whole hand clutching my thumb. Those little razorblade fingernails that seem to grow at a rate of knots and terrify me in trying to get them cut! The feel of my son's little arms wrapped around my neck giving me a 'huggy', the drool that falls on my chest when he falls asleep cuddled into me. His little curls against my face when we snuggle in under the blanket to read a book, and the sticky little hands that chase me hysterically when they're covered in the residue of his favourite snack of grapes and yoghurt.
2. How things sound
The gentle little sucky noise of the baby's soother as he drifts off for a snooze.
The sound of Rian singing at 6 am about Gruffalos and trains and having adventures with Woody and Buzz. 'To finnty...and bond!'
The sound Rian makes when I know he's working up to a tantrum, and the swift noise I make in an effort to distract him from getting there! The sound of his little feet hopping out of bed when he's supposed to be asleep and pattering across the hall. And best of all, the sound of Alex's gurgly little giggles and warbly chats, and the beautiful sound of Rian's belly laugh, so hard that tears run down his red little cheeks.
3. How things smell
The gorgeous new baby smell that still just about lingers from my baby.
The milky drooly smell that comes from him after a feed. I could breathe that in all day. The lovely smell from Rian's baby shampoo, and the smell of his bubble bath that he loves splashing around in. That unmistakable whiff that you knew was inevitable when he wolfed in all that fruit for lunch. Ok, maybe this isn't something I'll miss too much of when it's gone. And yet somehow, yes, I think I will because it's part and parcel of who they are now, and I know it won't always be this way.
One of Rian's favourite things in life at the moment is Toy Story, and in particular, the third one. At the end of the movie, Andy is heading off to college and is getting ready to leave. His mother walks into his empty room, all packed up, and gets emotional. She hugs him and says, 'I just wish I could be with you always.'
And that's my wish too, so much. It's hard now to imagine them both old enough to be going to college, and I'm sure in some ways I'll be only too delighted to get two smelly teenagers out of my hair, but obviously, the day will come when they'll be old enough to not need me anymore. Well, I hope they'll always need me in some ways! Hopefully, if I do this job right, they'll want to keep me in their lives just as much as I'll want them in mine.
I want to be able to look back, and still feel all those things, and the things still yet to come.
To remember how things are, how they were, and how they will be. To be ever thankful that we were given the chance we thought we'd never have, to be their parents, and cherish them always, because as I've realised to be true, This Too Shall Pass.