It had been a while since I last took a breather. Every day was packed, be it for work or personal. I actually enjoyed the hectic schedule in a warped sense. I liked to stop and stare hard at my kids, knowing just how soon they would outgrow their current looks.
It had been a year since I returned to work after an extended maternity leave. That meant X was 18 months’ old today.
How time had flown.
I vaguely recalled that I was in Hanoi, lugging 5 laptops for a product launch when I suspected that I could be pregnant. You know, there was just this odd tingling instinct. That was 24th May 2012.
For some reason, it did not seem so long ago. The shrinking brain effect, it must be. How could two years have passed feeling like it was only two months ago? How did little Z become not so little? How did I end up having 2 laughing boys on my hands?
I went past a campaign truck marketing “Maybe Baby” at the CBD area and thought they were finally going near the root of their target audience. One of the liners on why people did not want children was how they would affect their lifestyles.
It reminded me of the very same superfluous statement I made.
And possibly the most immature statement ever.
Unfortunately, many of my peers and I thought that way.
Only through real life experience did I learn that it matter not how my kids drive me up the wall, puke on my Ferragamo heels, leave their saliva over my Chanel, step on my Hermes bags, chew on my watches, exhaust a tidy sum monthly and burn my energies, they provided such unmeasurable joy that it could never be traded for anything in the world. Their smiles, their health and even finishing a meal swiftly could bring such happiness and satisfaction.
I was glad that life had chosen the path for me because I would not have been able to choose a better path if I had 100% autonomy. Guess that was akin to what Steve Jobs said, about the connecting dots when you looked back.
Happy 18 months to little X, the day when you outgrow the description ‘little’, I would probably need a hanky for my tears.