They were remembering

A poem about what I would tell a new mother

Lean into it.

Lean into the crazy outfits,
the marker on their own skin,
paint in their hair,
the mess and the madness.

It’s all true
what they say.

It goes by in a flash.

So soak it in, they tell you,
because in an instant
they grow up.

It’s a sentiment
passed down from generation to generation -
a quiet inheritance of mothers wondering:

Did I savor it enough?

Because we all know
we can never get that time back.

Their limbs are so long now.
She hardly fits in my lap.

And yet once

her entire body
fit inside mine.

Sometimes I see myself
in the sparkling eyes
of the grandmother
at the grocery store - 
the one who pauses
just a moment longer
to smile
and watch us go by - 

As if she knows something
I don’t yet.

As if she’s watching
a moment
she once lived inside.

Yes, they grow up in a flash.

And so do you.

Motherhood is a stream.

You’re slipping forward.
They’re slipping forward.

So you grab onto them,
try to be more present,
more patient,
more in the moment - 

while the house is a mess
and you feel yourself dissolving.

So you grab onto yourself.

Try to remember
who you are now.

But then you worry
you’re missing them.

And the truth is
you don’t even know
who you are anymore anyway.

And somehow
you feel more like yourself
than you ever have.

Everything feels slippery,
intangible - 
like you’re grasping
at things floating past you.

Focus on one
and the other 
slips away.

So yes,

savor every moment.

But you won’t.

You can’t.

No one does.
No one can.

And when you mess up
(because you will)

you will apologize
and show your child
that accountability matters.

You will dissociate.

You will yell.

You will sob over the sink
while doing the dishes
and then be asked
to get a snack.

You will finally sit down to eat 
after not eating all day - 

and then be asked
to come wipe a bum.

You will clean projectile vomit
out of every small crevice
of your car.

You will do it.

You will do 
all of it.

And while you do,

little grandmothers
with glimmers in their eyes
will approach you
in the grocery store

and tell you how quickly
it all goes by,

They will tell you
to savor every moment.

And you will want
to roll your eyes
at the cliché of it all - 
the absurd pressure
inside that sentence.

Because no one
is enjoying all of it.

No one can.

And one day
you will realize 

they weren't warning you. 

They were remembering. 

And one day
you’ll blink

and that little old lady
will be you.

So lean into it.

Don’t resist.
the mess 
the noise 
the impossible days. 

Surrender
to the madness.