All the years. And what my children will grow up knowing.

This afternoon Jack was looking up where he going to stay in Canberra next week. He was just sitting there, being all independent, turning on the computer and deciding to take a look.

Because he is almost twelve.

Twelve.

As in, this is the very last day in all eternity that he will be 11.

And so I'm sitting here wondering when that exactly happened.

When did all the years just go. Where did that little, follow-me-everywhere, never-stop-talking, never-stop-moving, gorgeous tiny boy, who had to investigate everything, go?

I look back and smile. He was such hard work as a little one. He rarely stopped talking, but when he did, it was because he was 'wondering' even at 2. He had endless energy, which basically left me exhausted and always on edge, because I could never predict what he would do next, especially once he had an all-too-willing-to-follow tribe, otherwise known as siblings. Branches were pulled off trees in order to add to every single bike/outside toy, to make cubby houses. Mud was the norm. Hours indoors were filled with every type of craft imaginable, endless stories, and toys never played with in the way the makers intended. He would correct adults, and always let other kids have the toy he was playing with if they tried to take it. Sometimes it would bug me, but even at two he would simply turn to me and explain that the other child obviously needed it more. He was so aware of the needs of others, even at a very young age, to the point that Isabel didn't even crawl until she was 12 1/2 months old. She had no need. Jack had already set her up a playground upon her waking, and I let him, because I was pregnant (again) and it kept him busy for long enough to allow me to be sick in peace.

Jack never slept. Well not in the way that other children slept. He was too busy finding out about the world. Trips to the library to find out about 'water monitors', listening to him lecture me about what I didn't do for the environment, and arguing over throwing out the recycling (potentially an awesome project I was assured), made living through the other reflux babies' first years oh so very hard. But then he learnt to read. And sleeping ceased to matter, because Minecraft or reading of a morning kept him silent, allowing us all to rest. Then, in what seemed like minutes later, he was riding his bike to get us bread and milk from the corner store and helping me keep Daisy happy, reading ALL the stories, so dinner could be prepared.

Yes, the growing up bit of parenting is pretty hard. Much harder than I first thought. I remember wishing that my child/ren would grow up faster, because all the days were endless, and bedtime seemed too far away. Sooooo far away, and never coming. And morning always came too soon. I remember wishing they were older so they would understand it was best to not ask mummy questions while she was trying to grow a baby, but was throwing up instead. I remember wanting them to be bigger, stronger, more able, so they could help me even a little, because I was just too tired to even keep an inventory of all the not-done things. I remember wishing they could read to each other, or to themselves.

And then I blinked.

Suddenly I have a just-about-twelve year old and a 'baby' (Daisy) who can sing 'twinkle twinkle' and make up stories to dob on her siblings.

It went by fast.

I'm not sad that Jack is getting older. I'm excited for all the years and experiences ahead. I love the way that children start to relate to parents differently as they really begin to understand more of the world around them. This birthday simply reminds me yet again about the reason behind the name of the blog. Living Future Memories.

Buying his card, wrapping his presents, planning his party, all reminds me that these moments we live together now will one day be the wonderful memories that I will love nothing more than to revisit and experience. But won't be able to, except in day dreams and journals, long ago set aside. I will remember though, and so will they.

Each moment is a gift. A memory for future-me to look back on and know I made the most of it.

Again I realise how important it is for me to stay present, pay attention and smile, while looking my children straight in the eye. Because they need to know I see them. I see them for who they really are right now. Not the 'them' of yesterday, or the not-enough compared to peers, just them. They need to know that I love and support them, will stick with them when it all gets too hard, and am more than ready to always hear the truth, with hugs left to spare.

I can say a lot of things.

I can write far too much.

But these are not the things that my children will grow up to know.

They instead will grow up knowing what I think of them, through all the actions they see me deliver, in the everyday moments that are so often overlooked. Through the chaos-battling journey, filled with messy and tricky bits, I hope they see in all I do that I believe they are important, strong, capable, loved, and oh so special.

All the years that have passed by with my children have been challenging, wonderful, overwhelming, amazing, and altogether tangled up into a complicated web I call my life. Almost twelve years has been an amazing blessing.

And I can't wait for the everything and all, that will be the moments I will experience in the years to come. The moments that will become the memories I will cherish for always.

Jen.x