The advice I heard the most is this: “Enjoy every moment. It goes by fast.”

Funny. I want it to go by fast.

I can’t wait for this little guy to be big enough to go surfing with me, to hike with us and spot his first ‘apapane, to help me bake sugar cookies, to pick out his own books at the bookstore, to jump in my arms and hug me until I can’t breathe. (My husband would like him to change his own diaper; that would definitely be nice.)

Sure, I’ve enjoyed moments during these first three months. But they’re moments. He sleeps a lot — which, I’m not going to lie, is really nice — and, for the first few weeks, he wasn’t quite aware of what was happening around him. His world was very, very small, his sight limited to shapes and light.

Now, though, he looks at me, responds to my smile, reaches for his toys, listens as I read him books, even laughs when Indy licks his ears. It makes all the sleepless nights and zombie days so worthwhile.

Still. I want him to grow up.

It’s interesting, though, how much has changed in such a short amount of time. Every week he’s different, he’s older, he learns something new. This week, for example, he found his thumb. Next week, who knows!

And we’ve changed, too, and we’re constantly learning something new. This week, I learned that preschools are expensive (like, $1,000 a month) and some are already filled in two years. (I was told I should have applied when I was pregnant. That’s insane.) I’ve also learned that not all children’s books are created equal; some are actually lame. And I’ve learned that babies — or, at least mine — love techno music. Just trust me on that.

But there’s a lot I still need to learn — or accept.

I’m still struggling with this new lifestyle. I can’t just hit the surf in the morning or meet up with friends — not without securing childcare in advance or packing a diaper bag full of emergency items including a change of clothes for me. (Yes, poop happens.) I’m watching friends on Facebook travel to exotic places or writing books or saving monk seals. Not me. I’m wiping butts (at least a cute one) and wondering when the last time it was that I shaved my legs. Or where my razor is.

But it’ll come. The adjustment, the change, the acceptance that life will forever be different. Better.

Maybe I’ll learn that next month.