Eighteen Months

Turtle and Monkey are eighteen months old today. I’ve been looking forward to this huge milestone, assured by many moms that “things will be a lot easier” at eighteen months. They were right. It is, finally, thankfully, easier. Not easy. Just easier. I feel a weight of sadness today too, though. Where did my little babies go? Last night Turtle put a purse on her shoulder, went to the door, and waved “bye-bye.” It made me think ahead to the day when she will actually walk out the door: going over to a friend’s house, or back to college, or home to her spouse. I cried a little. Where did my babies go? I want to remember everything that is passing so quickly.

I want to remember:

How Turtle runs away, laughing, when I try to dress her or change her diaper.

How Monkey un-self consciously sways her hips to dance.

How Turtle says “thk thk thk” and tickles me under the chin with little hands that don’t really know how to tickle.

How I felt the first time Monkey brought me her shoe when I asked her to.

How, when the car seats still faced the back, Turtle would puts her hand up and out over her head, yelling a little, waiting for me to put Mr. Lovey into her hands.

How Monkey screams when she turns on the fire truck siren, trying to mimic its sound.

How Turtle waves at the girl illustrating “waving” in My Little Word Book.

How Monkey fussed until I let her take a book into her crib at naptime, before she was even 16 months old.

How Turtle squeals with laughter when you tickle or chase her.

How Monkey has her Lovey “kiss” the character on each page of our bedtime story, I Love You, Goodnight

How Turtle’s breathing sounds as she’s cradled in my arms, gnawing on Mr. Lovey, when I’m putting her in her crib for the night.

How it feels to have Monkey’s full weight against my chest and her head resting on my shoulder.

How it feels to bask in the unconditional adoration of the two most amazing little girls on the planet.

Happy Toddlerhood, my beautiful daughters.