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The Time Flies Baby And Everything Else Blues

By Serge Bielanko |

Butterfly chaser.

Violet is three years old now, which makes me think back to when she was three days old. Back then, I can recall wondering to myself, “Man oh man, I wonder what she is going to be like/who she is gonna be, when she is three years old?”

As soon as people find out that you have a baby at home they want to let you know that time flies by.

“Pay attention, hoss,” they tell you with a stern smile, “You pay good close attention because kids grow up real fast and the whole damn thing goes by in the squeak of a frog’s fart.”

To be honest, I took their warnings for granted for awhile. But, you know, I was wrong; I’m always wrong.

Now, my little girl is three and I keep looking around, trying hard to figure out when exactly we pulled in to this particular station. I got on a big bus about thirty seconds ago, people. So what’s going on?

How is this happening?

And in all seriousness: why?


You can stand there in your Levis that you’ve been wearing for like two weeks straight, holding a chewed-up Frisbee while the dog keeps firing perfectly spaced shotgun shells off on the front stoop outside the rickety screen door of your ear, barking his commands at you as if he came and picked you out of a litter four years ago and took you down to the store and bought you a leash and some food and some plastic sheets for you to poop on in the car if you had to take things in that direction while he drove you home to be his muse and his pillow and to lick his bowl when he is done.

You can stand there in all that savage noise of your life popping off/the two p.m. sun beating down on you with a stick made out of sky/and you can watch your daughter chasing one of those dime-a-dozen white butterflies across the yard, the kind that look like two communion wafers eloping on some thermal wind, and you can see her legs carrying her over the new green grass. You can watch, and almost feel it, as her naked feet move her so swift, tagging down in some lush uncut clump of emerald  and then launching her back into space as she reaches out to grab at something wilder than any mountain on Earth, something she could never catch in a million years, and when it finally slams into the back of your aging skull that she is growing up now and she is so much more than you could have ever freaking dreamed she would be that first moment you touched her face/her hot pinkishness and fell so madly in love with her that God himself stopped his fishing for a minute and peered down off of the side of his bass boat to see just what a proud papa was hatching down there on that little blue and green rock in the shallows of the deep dark lake: only then will you realize that you are always gonna be a couple of steps behind all the love in your heart because it’s too damn big, man, for even you handle.

Only then, hoss, are you gonna remember to remember what they told you all along.

That it’s fast/fast/fast.

And it’s quick/quick/quick.

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About Serge Bielanko


Serge Bielanko

Serge Bielanko writes about fatherhood for Babble Dad and about marriage stuff for Babble Voices at He Said/She Said. His writing has appeared in Esquire and The Huffington Post, as well as on his personal blog, Thunder Pie. He lives with his wife and two kids in central Pennsylvania. Read bio and latest posts → Read Serge's latest posts →

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7 thoughts on “The Time Flies Baby And Everything Else Blues

  1. Juli says:

    I remember holding my baby girl the day she was born and wondering what she’d have in store for this world. How I relished the sweet scent of that wonderful warmth she carried on her head like a crown for so long. A hop, skip and jump in time and that baby girl is finishing her second year of university. Hold on tight and pay careful attention, it’s one a helluva ride.

  2. smm says:

    You capture life with words so well, Serge. Thank you for that.

  3. Karen says:

    What loving-ness!

  4. mama says:

    Oh man Serge, I love to read anything you write! Kindergarten, junior high, it goes so fast and once it’s gone, …’s gone, so soak up every minute of it! My Monica was your Violet, and it went so fast.

    1. sergebielanko says:

      Thanks mama! Love ya and miss ya lots. Hope you’re doing really well, too.

  5. natasha says:

    love this. thank you

  6. kerri says:

    your blog always makes me cry…the good kind of tears

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