One, Two, Nine

In the midst of play-dough, rainbow rice, and washable crayons, Jake and Lilly’s little two-year-old minds are being filled with things like colors, shapes, numbers, and ABC’s.  Jake love, love, loves the color orange, which I’m sure is in direct violation of the Good Aggie Parenting Decree. 

Lilly can’t open a book without counting everything on any given page.  She certainly knows the number “two,” and gets tickled when she spies a pair of anything.  When she counts, though, she is convinced that all she needs to know past “two” is “nine.”

“One, two, nine,” she’ll count, proud as peaches with herself for being such a smarty-pants.  When I try to get her to say “three,” she looks me straight in the eye and says, “No, nine.”  So I guess that settles it, then.  “One, two, nine,” it is.  I’m sure that is in direct violation of the Former Math Teacher Code as well.

I’m sure the day will come when she learns the correct way to count to ten, but today I couldn’t help but think of how I will be counting, “one, two, nine” as I watch them grow up... too quickly.

The first year of my babies’ lives was one I don’t fully remember.  It was one of the most challenging yet sweetest years of my entire life.  There are chunks of time I’ve lost (Cody claims this has happened to him too), I’m sure due to the little sleep we got with two babies who were on different sleep schedules and suffering from acid reflux. 

The second year was a time of independence and milestones, like first steps and first words.  When Jake and Lilly turned two just a couple of months ago, I think it was the first time that I started to feel "it."  Life moving too fast, my babies growing up into little people with completely unique personalities, and the general sense that if I’m not careful, I might miss something as these years start to whiz by me.

One, Two, Nine.

With every new stage, I feel "it."  When everyday seems like a tiny step towards that independence I’ve waited for, I feel "it."  When the highchairs get traded in for booster seats, when the diapers get replaced with big boy/ big girl underwear, and the cribs suddenly convert into toddler beds, I’ll feel "it," too.  Sometimes, I want to peak my head into their bedrooms at night and whisper while they sleep, “Slow down, please!”  

I realize that it will not stop, nor will it slow down, even if I wish it every day.  There will always be the next stage to contend with.  Tricycles will be swapped for bicycles, and no sooner than sending them to Pre-school, I'll be watching them head off to college.  

But, I'm glad that I have that little tug in my heart, because it is what reminds me to treasure every moment of every day like it's something precious.