Better

I think I was just never a baby person.

I loved my kids when they were babies. I loved the gurgling and the cuddling and the toothless grins. But I could have done without the multiple nap-times and trying to guess whether the cry was related to hunger or wetness or an aneurysm. Also the spit-up and the smooshed food all over everything. And various rashes from the smooshed food settling into skin folds. And the night waking. And teething.

But suddenly, my children are no longer babies. They still scream about tooth brushing. They still push (Henry) and whack people on the head with trucks (Amelia). They still whine and demand. But they also talk, they hug, they tell jokes. They can carry their own dinosaurs to the car, pick up their own Legos, and put their clothes in the hamper. They often say "please," "thank you," and "I love you." They have become people, these shorties of mine.

Just as suddenly, these years that just six months ago stretched so long before me seem precariously short. In September, both kids will be in part-time preschool. A year later, Henry will be in full-time kindergarten. Three years from now, they'll both be school kids, and I'll have a job and possibly time to go to the bathroom by myself, and we'll continue slipping towards the day they take wing and I become a tiny speck behind them.

But for now we have time together to lie on the grass and see what bugs we can find. We have self-serve frozen yogurt after a doctor's visit. We have a game we play where they say they want to go home even though we already ARE home, and I get the diaper bag and the car key only to say a second later, "Wait a minute..." and they explode into laughter.

I told this to my mom last night, and she smiled and said, "It gets even better," which is wonderful news, but for now I'm just grateful that it's this good.