I have 2 children. This is not news. They are *almost* 11 and 6 years of age – both boys. 5th grade and kindergarten. Now, if you don’t have children, these kids of mine probably seem quite young to you. I know if I didn’t have these kids, I would think that those ages were not very old. However, I do have these kids and their lives are flying by, right before my very eyes.

My mom sent me a few pictures this evening of both of my boys when they were babies. See above (they were pretty fucking cute if I’m allowed to say that. And I am. A. Because they are and 2. this is my writing and I’ll say whatever I want and C. I’m totally biased. BUT Jonesie and I, our DNA mixed well, if you will, and we made some pretty darn cute kids.)

Anywho, back to my point, which I may or may not have. Looking at those pictures of my babies as actual babies made me weep. In the best possible way and the worst possible way. First of all, I managed to get past the baby stage (which, let’s be real, was not my best stage (nor Ash’s so it’s a wonder our babies even survived) – I was a horrible baby mother, always confused, always scared, always tired, always leaking fluids out of somewhere in my body – you get the picture.) I think that’s why it took almost 5 full years to push another human out of the spot where a woman pushes out humans – a. because ouch and 2. because babies and me – not the best combo.

The funny thing is (like ironic funny, not funny ha ha), I barely remember them as babies. Maybe my brain has blocked it all out on purpose because I was probably not always my best self. Having babies causes a lot of turmoil in marriage. It causes a lot of sleepless nights. It causes physical pain. It causes emotional pain. Or maybe, just maybe, so much time has passed and so many other things have happened in our lives, that it’s nearly impossible to remember every little thing from every little phase in life.

In the last *almost* 11 years, life has been hard, amazing, hilarious, stupid, painful, joyous, stressful, happy, mundane, hard, easy and downright fucking devastating. Since Jack was born (December 11 years ago), we have moved way too many times (with another move in our near future); I returned to work; we bought a house; I quit work to be a stay at home mom, we finally took a honeymoon (as my wedding was that of the shotgun variety and honeymooning wasn’t high on our list of things to do while up the duff); we almost go divorced, more than once; I went to therapy; he went to therapy; we went to therapy; we bought another house – this one as an income property); we took vacations; we made new friends; we pissed people off; we made people happy; Ash got sick – not cancer – yet; we had another baby; Ash started dreaming of opening our own business; Ash quit his job; we almost got divorced, again; more therapy; we started a business; our kids started school; we lost Ash’s dad; we bought another rental house; we sold our house and moved again; we watched our kids grow and thrive; Ash got terminal cancer; we lived it up – vacations, family, friends; we sold our business; we bought a Jeep; we sold a Jeep; we loved deeply and actually had the chance to tell each other all the things we might have never said had we not known our days were numbered; Ash died; life moved on; I bought a lot; we’re building a house; the kids are still alive and well.

The point is time is freaking flying. And the older I get, the faster I seem to lose it. So I leave you with this – live your life. If there’s something you need to say, say it. If there’s something you want to do (that’s, you know, legal and stuff), do it. Don’t wait. Because you can’t get time back. It just keeps on going and going and going like the Energizer Fucking Bunny. And it can all change in the blink of an eye, the piss on a stick, the tumor markers in the blood. We don’t get to know what’s around the next corner. That’s part of the beauty and the detriment of life. So do what you want to do now. Tomorrow is not promised, and even if it is, tomorrow will be over before you know it.