Time is a funny thing. While it passes at a constant, unyielding rate, it somehow feels totally subjective. I’ve spent the last few days thinking about the subjectivity of time.
Specifically, my husband and I just celebrated 8 years since our first date. 8 years. For me, that’s less than 20% of my life. It feels like I lived an entire other life before we met, and so did my husband.
In saying that, my oldest stepson just turned 16.
8 + 8 is 16.
Wow. This means I have now been a part of his life for more than 50% of it.
In taking it one step further, my stepsons live with us 50% of the time, which means that 25% of his life has been spent with me.
What feels like a drop in the bucket to me, each day becomes a more significant portion of my stepson’s life. This is even more true for my younger stepsons. We have been together more of their lives than their biological parents were. The thought of me in their lives is more “normal” than not.
The boys came into my lives at a specific point in time and I can’t experience anything before that. It’s that hard stop that sometimes makes me feel like I missed so much time. For example, I didn’t know them younger ages so I can’t compare Austin to them. And yet… Austin is almost the same age my youngest stepson was when Curtis and I met. All of a sudden, I will have a frame of reference for Austin’s development. It’s very strange to think about it that way.
I think I take this all for granted sometimes. I spend so much time worrying about my place in their lives. I have been a normal, stable part of their lives for more than 50% of it. I am simply part of what they know. When I think of it that way, it seems silly to worry… except that perspective of time is not the same for their dad – or for their mom. So maybe us adults still need a little more time.
Deep thoughts for a cold February day. I am going to try to remember that my place in their life is not fleeting and is significant. Mostly to have the confidence that it’s ok to be openly involved in their lives. They really don’t know any different anymore, and I’m not going anywhere, so why shouldn’t I be?
Easier said than done, maybe. Everything in time.
Step-Parenting 101 