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We get 12 times to play Santa (if we’re lucky).

This phrase stopped my scroll on a Sunday evening. I had an idea of the direction this post was going but I continued on reading.

12 spring breaks
12 easter baskets
20 tooth fairy visits
13 first days of school
1 first date
1-2 proms
1-2 times of seeing them in their graduation cap and gown
18 summers under the same roof

And so on and so on.

It was essentially another post listing the number of all the monumental moments that we, Lord willing, will get to experience with our children.

I understand the meaning of these posts. I truly do.

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The intention is for us to gain perspective on how short childhood is and how we need to savor the fleeting moments.

But no one understands how quickly time flies more than a mother who is watching her baby grow before her eyes.

No one understands how many firsts and lasts there are more than a mother who has breastfed her baby for the last time or who has rocked her toddler to sleep for the last night.

No one understands how short the years are more than the mother who has planned a wonderful 1-year-old birthday party and then turned around and planned a fantastic 4-year-old birthday party, in the blink of an eye.

No one understands how we need to enjoy each and every moment more than a mom who is trying her absolute best to soak in the moment before the next one happens.

We don’t need perspective on how quickly it goes by. We are living in the middle of it and are reminded of it each and every day.

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The too-tight tennis shoes that just fit the day before.

The ankles peeking out from under the jeans that fit last week.

The word that is suddenly pronounced correctly.

The pacifier dropped on the floor, only to collect dust.

The boyish smile that once was a baby grin.

We know how quickly it is going and it is breaking our heart.

There is unbelievable pressure to get it right when you put a number on it. It can make you feel like you only have a limited number of chances to make it perfect, even though we know that perfection simply isn’t possible.

Moms have enough pressure without the number of moments blaring in our faces.

We know the number of Christmases is limited. We know the summers are short. But what if the love and joy we experience throughout their childhood leads into love and joy we get to experience with them in their adulthood?

What if the Christmas Eve traditions you started with your own family are passed on to your grandchildren?

What if they call you on a random Tuesday, just because they want to talk? Your talks always made them feel better.

What if they come over for coffee on a Saturday morning because they used to love sitting on the porch with you at the end of a long day?

The dynamic may change, but that doesn’t mean the memories are over.

This holiday season, enjoy making beautiful memories with your family, knowing that there are more memories to come.

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Whitney Britton

My name is Whitney Britton. I am a Tennessee girl, born and raised. I am a proud wife and boy mom. I love the Lord and enjoy being outside. My hobbies are writing, reading, hiking, working out, and watching TN football with my family. Follow me on Instagram and Substack

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