If only for a little while, please stop.

I've been a mess lately. Crying randomly and uncontrollably, lashing out at my husband and kids, and falling into endless funks. The reason seems silly to me, but no matter how silly I tell myself it is, I can't escape it. I feel like lately, time has been throwing itself in my face. Laughing at me as it flies past. Continuely whispering in my ear, "look how fast I can go..." and no matter how hard I try to shut it out, it's always in front of my eyes.

Time is everywhere. It's in the changing leaves outside and the forecast on TV. It's in the box of baby clothes I gave away, and the baby I gave the clothes to. It's in my nana's face and my sons unstable walk. It's in the catalogs that came today, and the catalogs that'll come tomorrow.

Time is cruel.

We very recently put an offer on a house and to put it mildly, I'm ecstatic. I can not, CAN NOT wait to get out of this apartment. We're crammed in here like sardines and it does nothing for my mood. I'm sharing a room with Kyle and Caden is sharing a room with all of our storage. Toys are littering our living room and laundry is littering the bathroom. Our closets are overflowing and to be blunt, so are we. But here's the thing, however miserable we are now, I know I'll miss this. One day, very soon(or so it seems) I'll be cooking dinner in my big kitchen in my big roomy house. Caden will be away at school and Kyle will be locked in his room, moodily listening to music. Or maybe, he'll be gone too. I'll remember this apartment, and I'll ache for it. I'll ache for the times when Kyle is crying because Caden pushed him, and Caden is yelling at Kyle because he's crying. And I'M crying because I have nowhere to hide. I'll ache for the times we all cram into one bed for naps, and the times we squeeze ten plus people into the living room for Christmas dinner. I'll ache for the times that have long since turned into memories.

How do we slow this down? How do I get time to stop and let me have my fill of babies, and toddlers, and hot husbands? To give me so much of this that I have to say, "okay, enough. I'm ready to move on now. I'm ready for whatever is next." How can I ensure that twenty years from now when I'm cooking dinner in an empty house, I feel contentment instead of longing? Because if there's one thing I know, it's this; I sure as hell do not want to miss this apartment.