Life with Lane

I was rushing.

Rushing to feed the boys breakfast. Rushing to get myself and the boys dressed. Rushing to get out the door so I could have some time to clear my head at the gym.

In my rush, I took a few seconds to sneak into the bathroom. Alone.

Until Evan realized he couldn't see my face and started to whine and crawl his way into my secret hiding spot.

A few seconds later, Lane, who now had his pants, shoes and socks removed from his body, joined us.

As Evan pulled at my legs and tried to stick his little baby hands into the toilet - the same one I was trying to use - Lane enthusiastically told me about something very important: pumpkins.

Lane insisted I answer all his questions - even though I had no clue what he was talking about - and then decided to wash his hands. And his shirt. And my bathroom counters.

Frustrated, I pleaded with my children to just let me have a few moments alone to use the bathroom.


Finally, we headed out the door. I dropped the boys in the childcare room at the gym. Snuck into my class a few minutes late and found my place in the back of the room.

A few songs passed. My head cleared. I felt better.


At a break, the woman behind me tapped my arm.

"Oh, I remember when my boys used to do that to me," she said with a smile.

"Great," I thought to myself. "I've left the house with a George sticker on my bottom again." I made a quick swipe of my back side to feel for stickers.

Confused, she touched my arm, and replied, "The tattoos. My boys went through that phase. I would be covered in them."

Oh yes, the tattoos. The Monster Jam tattoos Lane insisted he put on my upper arm, which was now bare in my workout shirt.

"I had forgotten all about that," she continued. "Such a sweet time. I miss those times when my boys were little."

And then the music started again.


I'd gone to the gym to have some time alone.

I'd come to clear my head.

I'd been reminded.

This time with my boys is fleeting.

There will come a cool Fall morning when I'll wake up with nothing but time. My boys will have grown up and moved on with families of their own. I'll have nothing but my house to keep me company.

I'll have nothing but the silence I sometimes long so much for at this time in my life.

And a longing for little boy hands to pull at my legs and toddler conversations about something so important. Like pumpkins.

Babies don't keep.

Thankfully, every once in a while, I'm reminded why I've decided to keep mine so close to me.