Random people everywhere remind me that children grow within a blink of an eye.

That statement almost always causes me to roll my eyes. As if the pre-mature wrinkles on my forehead aren't proof enough of my long days, the urge to drag the complete stranger into my minivan (filled with post-it notes of what I-have-yet-to-accomplish) to prove that my days are very much never ending is unnerving. Wait. What? Your minivan isn't your office?

So. I roll my eyes. Silently. And I go about rushing from dance to karate to soccer while feeding the kids dinner in the car on our way to religion, on Wednesdays. That's just Wednesday. (NOTE: I don't over-schedule the kids... it's just that the schedule-makers-of-recreational-programs schedule my three children all at the same time.)

"My feet hurt."

"So. Do. Mine."

"No, but my feet really hurt." My eldest complained half way through our afternoon minivan race.

"So. Do. Mine!" I repeated.

Suddenly, visions of sugar-coated shoe salesmen popped into my head and reminded me of the times I skimmed over "Toddlers for Dummies" and found myself buying shoes for my first born child because his were two-and-a-half sizes too small. Opps. Wait. What? That never happened to you? My mommy radar kicked in and I knew it was time for new shoes.  Turns out he's a one-and-a-half and no longer a twelve in shoes. Ahem.

So. Anyways. Apparently he grew since yesterday checking receipts to see when I last purchased shoes and jokingly I teased him.  "I can't keep up with you!  You are growing too fast.  Next thing you know... you will need a new bike!  (NOTE:  I am really this slow in real life.)

"Actually, my knees do hurt when I'm on my bike."

"What?"

"They hurt."

"We just bought you a bike, dude."

"Well. I think I need a bigger bike."

The old bike (we just bought it - yeah, it was two years ago) sans training wheels which gave me a heart attack knowing my first-born was on his own without support, is pictured on the left.  And on the right, the new mountain bike sans white basket that used to carry his beloved teddy bears.  Insert.  Heart. Failure. Here.

I tried very hard to be the personal cheerleader yelling, "Way to go!  Go, Jay, go!"  While my proud husband and I watched him   ride for the first time on a mountain bike.  It was very cool!  Kindaof.  I was clutching my chest with my finger on speed dial.   Did I ever mention that my husband was/is an avid biker who first met my entire extended family after a huge bicycle accident that tore his face apart on the asphalt and landed him in the ER and his face was pretty much un-recongizable so my family joked that I was obviously the one who wore the pants in the relationship.  Yeah. They weren't funny then and aren't funny now.  But that's how my husband met my folks.

"Go, Jay, go!"

I slowly removed my finger from the 911 speed dial and joked, "I can't keep up with you, for real!  Next thing you will know you will be riding to the woods with a friend on your handle bars."  I have no idea what happens in the woods. I just see teenagers, on bikes, go into the woods after school. Perhaps they are avid outdoorsmen? Insert.  Heart failure. Here.