Even if you’re not a country music aficionado you’ve probably heard the song above before. It’s been featured on lots of schlocky TV shows and I’m not the first parenting blogger to talk about the song. I don’t even like the song. It’s cheesy. But the stupid song has driven me to an ugly cry twice.
If country music makes your ears bleed and you haven’t heart the song before, it follows a woman from teenager to middle-aged mom and how she keeps looking towards the next event in her life. Then some wise old sage, usually a dude (ugh), tells her to slow down because “You’re gonna miss this. You’re gonna want this back. You’re gonna wish these days didn’t go by so fast”.
Velveeta quality cheese, right? But yet, I cry.
The first ugly cry came when Max was a month old. I’ve discussed my battle with post-partum depression before and the first cry came when I was in the thick of it. Left and right I was being told to savor the moments of his first few weeks. Everyone talked about it being such a grand experience and I was left feeling a crushing sense of guilt because I just wanted it to end. I was desperately wanting out of the newborn phase. I wanted Max to sleep through the night. I wanted feedback beyond incessant screaming. I wanted all the postpartum pain to go away. I just wanted out.
When I heard that song, driving to a rare child-free errand, I started the fat-tears-runny-nose-unable-to-breathe cry. I cried because I couldn’t identify with the song when everyone said I should. I cried because I thought I was the worst mother in the whole world.
Fast forward to today. Again I’m in the car. PPD has been conquered and I’m generally feeling pretty okay about my performance as Mommy. I was thinking about all the major leaps that Max took over the weekend. His fourth tooth broke though and he was showing all the signs that more are on the way. He started full-on crawling. No more of the army crawl hybrid he had been doing for the last month. He started babbling new and more distinct syllables. And the biggest leap? He pulled himself to his feet on the very first attempt and is now attempting to pull himself up on EVERYTHING, even things not quite stable. I was happy but also a bit shelled shocked. It was a lot to take in (and a lot to baby proof) in a 4 day period.
And then that stupid song comes on the radio.
And the tears start flowing.
I don’t have selective memory. I haven’t forgotten about those first few months. I don’t miss them. I don’t want them back. I still wish they went just a little faster. Even now, I am not trying to hold back my growing boy. I don’t want time to stop. However, I do want to remember these days. I don’t want to ever forget the look of pride mixed with shock that crossed his face when he realized he had pulled himself up. I want to remember his four-tooth smile because I am starting to understand that before I know it, those teeth will be costing me a small fortune for braces. And maybe as Max walks across the stage at his
Damn you Trace Adkins. I hate the ugly cry.