C has no concept of time. If something has happened in the past, be it five minutes or five months ago, it happened esterday. I'll file that under words that will sadden me when finally pronounced correctly along with o'mana (banana) and siwwy (silly).
She often says things like, "esterday, when I was a baby, I used to eat puffs just like Wilson. Right, Mom?" And I think to myself, she has no idea how right she is. Because, I'm pretty sure it was only yesterday that I was feeding Catherine puffs, breaking them into quarters, watching intently as she rolled them around in her mouth, trying to figure out this new thing, this new sensation, this new skill.
It was only yesterday that I was on all fours on my living room floor, showing her how to crawl; and somehow, though only a day has passed, she is three and a half and is helping me teach her baby brother this same skill.
It was only yesterday, that I marveled at her ability to hold a toy in her hand, that I taught her how to wave, how to clap. It was only yesterday that I watched her reject the brown tinted pureed peas the same way her brother does.
It was only yesterday that she learned to walk, learned to talk. She toddled through the living room, chubby legs, chubby cheeks, that sweet toddler belly, a mess of curls, giggling with her every move.
Today, she is tall and lean. Her baby belly is gone, her cheeks have lost their chubbiness. She says things like, "Mom, we live in Birmingham, Alabama" and, "Mom, did you know that a ball is a sphere?" She is potty trained and brushes her own teeth and dresses herself.
She is strong-willed and independent, smart and funny. She plays soccer and dances and goes to school. She introduces herself to adults and children alike, makes friends in an instant. She is a miniature version of Husband in so many ways. I'm watching her grow into a person and it's dazzling. I can't think of a better word - I am dazzled by her.
Yesterday, we learned we would be a family of four. It was only yesterday that a baby boy entered this world of pink and glitter and princesses. It was only yesterday that he established his place in our family.
I'm fairly certain that it was only yesterday that he fit snugly in his infant carrier, that he slept soundly on every car ride, that he snuggled calmly in my arms. It was only yesterday that he rolled over and learned to sit on his own.
Somehow, eight months have passed by overnight. Somehow, life refused to slow down and our newborn grew up a little too fast for my liking. At eight months old, Wilson is mobile enough to steal toys from his sister and strong and fast enough to tear a paper towel into 347 pieces while I'm not looking. He is cutting teeth and sitting up and playing with toys. He is busy all the time and talking all the time. He is this tiny person, this little man, weighing almost as much as his sister three years his senior.
He is sweet and happy and easy going. He seamlessly transitions from the beach to the car to a football game to a soccer field and everywhere in between. He is my little buddy, my mini me.
I'm trying to wrap my head around it all, but I just can't. Yesterday, my babies were babies and I find myself in a place where I simultaneously wish for them to grow up and stay the same. I beg for them to go to sleep while hoping they still need me in the morning. I live under a mountain of bottles and dishes and laundry and crayons, but secretly dread the day that I no longer trip over toys on my way to bed.
But I think that's one of the many joys of raising children - the tomorrows are equally as great as all the esterdays.