The girls are on the brink…at 19 months old, they’re not really babies anymore, but they’re not quite little girls just yet, either.
I’ve decided they’re “tweens”, moving back and forth between the dependence of babyhood and the more independent little girl stages to come.
I was looking at some pictures I took within the past couple of weeks, and I could hardly believe my eyes. I swear that my babies look closer to four in their stylish bubble shirts and denim shorts. It made me want to dress them in sun suits and matching hats for as long as I can!
In many ways, the girls are still babies...
They still cry when they need or want something. I still change a thousand diapers a week (or at least it seems like it). And every night, I still carry them up the stairs, tuck them into their zipper blankets, lay them down in their cribs, and kiss their soft little heads, just like I have since they were born.
But in so many ways, they’re so grown!
They walk (and run!) and talk (and babble!) and feed themselves (at least somewhat proficiently). They understand and follow directions (when they want to). They can play and interact, both with me, and with each other. And they have opinions…and lots of them! They like certain toys, and certain songs, and certain books, and Heaven forbid that I not understand which one they’ve specifically “requested”!
As exciting as it is to be on this brink with them…to know that they will just continue to grow and mature and become more independent…to look forward to figuring out more and more of their personalities…to anticipate what it will be like the first time we’re able to play a board game together, or make a batch of cookies…
…it’s also bittersweet.
I love my babies so much, and I just want to soak in every last ounce of their babyhood.
So forgive me if I continue to stuff them into zipper blankets until they’re seven, and carry them upstairs when they weigh as much as I do. And what’s wrong with a ten-year old using J&J Baby Wash? Oh, how I love that smell!
But I know that no matter how old they are, or how much taller they are than their mama (pretty please!), they’ll always be my babies.