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In the midst of baby fever, a reminder that time flies

My Sentiments Exactly

May 6, 2012
Patty Kimerer (pkimerer@zoominternet.net) , Tribune Chronicle | TribToday.com

I'm not sure what's in the water in the little corner of Stark County which houses my day job, but I swear, every seventh gal I know there is expecting.

I take care to drink from the Culligan jug myself.

Kidding ... because the little baby boom actually has my infant lust set at an unusually high reading. If it was a fever, I'd put it at about 105 degrees Fahrenheit. And the looming "newborndemic" seems particularly timely since I've only recently come to terms with the fact that - at the very young age of halfway to 88 - my child-bearing years have effectively ended.

Hmpf and heavy, heavy sigh. How did it happen so very quickly?

My sister and I collectively pondered this after popping in our dentures, slathering on some arthritis cream and tooling around on our personal mobility movers just the other day. With my niece's high school graduation fast-approaching, we harkened back to the time of our own adolescence and reminisced about many a thing from our coveted younger days. Times when hopes, dreams and pterodactyls filled the air.

At least that's what soon-to-graduate Kelly seems to think. As we commented how the venue for our own high school graduations is the very same spot in which she will participate in commencement a short month from yesterday, she snickered.

"Yeah, but I bet it looks a lot different in there now ... you guys graduated like, a hundred years ago," said my angelic goddaughter. Thanks for that, Kels.

Not to be out-laughed, my almost 12-year-old son Kyle jumped on the Hoveround, er, bandwagon.

"Right? I mean, did the photographer have to chisel your picture into stone?" he cracked, much to his cousin's delight.

"Hey!" I shot back, "It wasn't THAT long ago" I protested, my voice trailing off like the last bit of helium eking out of a week-old Mylar balloon. True, my senior photo reflects feathered bangs with the wing span of an American bald eagle, but still!

"Time is moving too fast. How can we slow it down, just a little?" I lamented to no one and everyone all at once.

Trusty pal and Trumbull county native Charleen Scott shared some of her always-helpful words of wisdom/comfort.

"Oh, honey, people have been asking that question since the dawn of time," she said.

Gosh, then I should know this one since I'm apparently as old as dirt itself.

Sorry, I digress.

She continued by saying, "The answer is to live in the moment; don't regret the past but celebrate and learn from it. Don't dread the future. It's full of promise but not promised. Just be present every day of your life - and be thankful for every second within it."

She always knows what to say.

I thought again about my pals who will soon have crying babies keeping them up half the night, every night. Tough to convince someone in the "New Mommy Haze" that time's going by too fast I'm not so old that I don't recall that, at least.

But, trust, mommies-to-be, it's a millisecond from toddlers to teens. Try to enjoy the teething and the fussiness because you're going to rue the day there's no more cooing.

Take it from old Aunt Patty - and then call her to babysit for you.

Kimerer is a Tribune Chronicle columnist older than the printed word - but she is capable of utilizing modern technology. Contact her at pkimerer@zoominternet.net.

 
 

 

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