Ten years, 11 months, 15 days, and 28 minutes. That’s how long my little buddy, Max, has been gracing the world with his presence. Seriously, how did we get here?
I won’t exaggerate and say it feels like “just yesterday,” because let’s be real—it doesn’t. It feels like an eternity. Yet, it’s hard to believe I’ve been a mom for over a decade. We’re already past the halfway mark of this magical journey called “childhood.”
Lately, I find myself gazing at Max, trying to catch a glimpse of the baby he once was. Where did that little guy go? His chubby cheeks have vanished, and his almond-shaped eyes are more round now. Even his long, shaggy locks have been trimmed. My little boy is evolving into someone new, and I’m acutely aware that these transformations will only speed up over the next few years.
Parenting has a knack for surprising you—not just because it is tougher, more rewarding, and way beyond expectations, but because time feels like it’s doing gymnastics. Some days stretch into infinity while years seem to disappear in a blink. The milestones you thought would be monumental—like taking first steps, starting kindergarten, or losing that first tooth—quickly blend into the backdrop of daily life.
It’s those ordinary Tuesday evenings, the midweek errands, and spontaneous dance-offs in the kitchen that imprint themselves on our memories. And so, ten years, 11 months, 15 days, and 28 minutes somehow feels like a significant milestone.
When Max hit the big 1-0—double digits!—we celebrated with the usual fanfare but little sentimentality. We threw a small gathering with a few close friends and belted out “Happy Birthday” at least six times, but there were no tears or parental angst about the rapid passage of time.
But now, at ten years, 11 months, 15 days, and 28 minutes, I can’t help but ponder: Is this peak childhood bliss? Or worse, is this the beginning of the end? I’m feeling all sorts of emotions about it.
I’m not one to reminisce about babyhood or rush into the next stage. I genuinely believe that each phase has its own charm—whether it’s the infant years, the toddler tantrums, or this “sweet spot” we’re in now. Even those pesky three-year-olds hold a special place in my heart, and I reject the notion that “little kids, little problems; big kids, big problems.” Every age has its challenges and joys. I know I’ll adore and detest the teenage years just as I did the newborn phase.
But… TEN. Ten years, 11 months, 15 days, and 28 minutes to be precise.
*Sigh*
This feels like a pivotal moment. It’s as if, with one blink, I’ll look back and childhood will be a vibrant memory in the rearview mirror instead of the hazy fog we sometimes navigate through. Ten is straddling the line between childhood and the creeping onset of adolescence.
Ten is sports and Xbox, doodling animals, and wearing baseball cleats. It’s diving for that catch in the outfield (and actually nailing it), but it’s also the tears shed on the bench after striking out—again.
Ten is slamming doors, followed by tearful reconciliations. It’s lengthy discussions about everything from God to the plight of the homeless. Ten is wanting to find real answers while forming their own opinions. And knowing just when to say, “Enough with the questions, please!”
Ten is binge-watching Moana and Star Wars, belting out songs by The XX and Imagine Dragons—albeit with most lyrics hilariously wrong. It’s occasional swearing and those classic “yo’ mama” jokes. It’s finally grasping the essence of sarcasm.
Ten is loud and rambunctious with fidget spinners and bottle flipping, but it’s also tender and sweet, filled with handmade Mother’s Day cards and comforting hugs for friends in distress.
Ten still sneaks into my bed for morning snuggles, but now it’s SportsCenter instead of cartoons. Ten is smelly T-shirts and reminders to take a shower (like, please!).
Ten is the thrill of staying home alone for a short time, and jaunts to the corner store for candy—sometimes bringing home a little treat for mom. It’s the occasional homework slip but remembering to study for that spelling test.
Ten is rolling eyes at romantic scenes in action flicks and wanting to watch horror movies while mostly covering their eyes. It’s shoes that grow two sizes in just a couple of months and a forehead that fits perfectly in the crook of my neck.
Ten is both little and big. And yes, ten is the last best age of childhood.
For more insights about the ups and downs of parenting, check out our other blog post on home insemination. And if you’re on a journey of expanding your family, Make a Mom can provide invaluable support. If you’re curious about pregnancy resources, Women’s Health is an excellent source.
In summary, navigating the transition of childhood to adolescence at age ten can be bittersweet, filled with joy, challenges, and the inevitable changes that come with growing up.