A Year and a Half

18 months. 79 weeks. 1.5 years.

It doesn’t matter how I write it out, it doesn’t make them any younger, or time go by any slower.

This might be my favorite age yet, even though I say that about every month. It still might be my favorite, despite the fact that some days my eyeballs are so heavy they might drop to the floor and my overly dry shampooed hair might start shedding from my messy mom bun.

I know every parent thinks their kid is great, but mine are actually magical. They have given me so much joy, light and a perspective of the world that I never could have seen without them.

The other day, my brain was just a little off and I needed to go for a run. You see, it was the day after the violent attacks on our Capitol, and I had spent too much time watching the news and being sad over our country and the fact that so many Americans are fueled by hate and selfishness. So, I bundled both girls up from head to toe, loaded them up in their new super savvy wagon, and headed to a nearby deserted park.

After about 4 miles, I looked over to see that the one family that had been at the playground had finally left and though the girls’ little noses were turning rosey and their refusal to wear their hats left their ears cold, we headed over. It’s a gated playground, so I was able to take both girls out of the wagon and let them run.

My babies, with their newfound freedom, ran around the playground with squeals of delight...sprinting as fast as their tiny legs could take them. Occasionally they’d trip on their own feet, fall face forward on the ground while protected by their oversized coats, only to shake off the shock and keep running.

Nadia, full of excitement, trudged over to a section of wheat colored lifeless plants and screamed “FLOWAH.” It was freezing cold outside, overcast and gloomy with a windy chill in the dead of January, and my babies saw nothing but flowers, joy, laughter and fun. Every day is a new adventure with life to be lived, snuggles to be had, and lessons to learn. It doesn’t matter if the skys are grey or if the grass is dead, every weed is a flower.

My sweet girls, despite their terrible-twos temper tantrums and sassy attitudes, inspire me to live each day like it brings a brand new adventure, and to love like there’s no possibility of getting hurt.

18 months. 79 weeks. 1.5 years. That’s how long I’ve been lucky enough to be their Mama.

Nadia:

My tiny little snuggler.

Still in 9-12 month clothes.

Loves bread and pasta.

Clingy.

Observes and absorbs everything.

Loves textures and anything soft.

12 teeth!

Norah:

Independent but will occasionally snuggle, on her terms.

TV enthusiast.

Loves food, mostly meat.

Starting to transition into 24month cloths.

Repeats anything you say.

Can name almost all body parts (recently learned “booty”)

11 teeth.

Both:

Obsessed with dancing, especially along with “The Nutcracker Ballet.”

Love kisses and belly boogers.

Love racing around the house screaming “GOOOOO!”

Love fruit, of any kind.

Love going through all the animal sounds.

LOVE bath time.

Love their “Mama” and “Dada.” 🥰