Then they were two

Everyone is quick to say things about savoring every moment when your kids are young- they say it from the time they learn you're pregnant, and they keep saying it as the days go by. You smile and agree, saying, "Oh, I will, thanks." And for all intents and purposes, you really do try to savor the moments: the messy ones, the funny ones, the sad, uncomfortable, weird, outrageous and priceless ones.

And suddenly you turn around and your babies aren't babies any more. On April 25th they're two. They are growing out of baby fat and into their necks. They aren't eating mush, they are eating pizza with you. They don't cry when they are hungry, they tell you "hungy-eat?" and when they are poopy they say, "poopy-pans." They know most of the objects in the house by name and can identify each family member by name- rather clearly. They don't wear onesies, just regular boy clothes. They don't want to play with rattles, they want to climb up the swing set and kick the soccer ball. They want to do everything you do, including type on the "pewter" and fix things with Daddy. They just plain aren't babies any more.

Every moment of the past that I'm sure I favored I now need to concentrate on to remember. I need to go back and look at pictures to remember what they looked like as babies and how they grew so fast. I need to watch videos to see and hear their little cries and squeals. And a lot of the time I do want to go back, to hold onto those little baby moments forever.

But then I see who these boys are becoming and I am intrigued by the unkowns that lie ahead. I want to be there every step of the way, just to watch from the sidelines. And I can still smile and say that I will savor every moment-- I'll just try to keep the flavors forever.