When my children returned to school in September, I was reminded once again of how quickly time is passing. I had just gotten over
shock of sending my eldest child off to Grade 1, when I suddenly found myself delivering him to school for his first day of Grade 2.Albert Einstein may have been first man to scientifically prove that time is not a constant, but I have no doubt that this was something parents suspected for many centuries.
In Einstein’s world of E=mc2 time is a variable that is dependent on how fast you are moving. In a parent’s world, time is a variable that is dependent on birth of each child. I like to think of parental equivalent of Einstein’s famous equation as The Theory of Parentivity. To put it simply, amount of energy it takes to be a parent (E) is based on your loss of memory (m) multiplied by number of children you have (c).
What this really means is that when you become a parent, your space-time-continuum undergoes a radical shift and your brain has a very hard time keeping up with speed at which things are now moving. It goes something like this: One day you find out your pregnant, next your baby is out of diapers, and then your child is off to school. Sure, there’s some stuff in between, but it’s all just a blur of activity.
I have found that net effect of living in this black hole in time is that my old, reliable brain was replaced by what I refer to as my “mommy brain.” “Where did I put my keys?” or “What did I have for breakfast?” are common refrains. My forgetfulness quickly escalated from mundane to momentous as I began forgetting things I swore I would always remember.
All those special moments that mark different stages in my children’s development just seem to blend into each other and I am simply unable to organize events in chronological order. Which of my children lost their first tooth in Kindergarten? Was my youngest daughter born yet when we went to Disneyland? Who started riding their bike without training wheels at age 4? Given enough time, I can usually come up with correct answer, but not always. The upside of all this time shifting is that I feel I have come a long way quickly, and I have attained quasi-expert parenting status in blink of an eye. I realized I had crossed bridge from novice to experienced parent when I met a lovely young woman who was a new mom and I had an overwhelming desire to flee from her.
When I was a new mom, I found comfort and support spending time with other new parents. However, once I had my third child, it became increasingly difficult for me to befriend someone who was fresh off “no children” boat.
I think reason for this odd reaction can be traced back to one thing: poop. When I was in throws of my first parenting experience, poop was interesting. I had many conversations with other new parents about frequency and consistency of our little angels’ bowel movements. I admit I even found it difficult to discuss my child in those early stages without broaching this subject. Once I had changed my one thousandth diaper, however, this topic no longer held same intrigue.
