Another month older.

14 months.

I used to make fun of people who aged their children by the months instead of years.

“No, Karen. Your child is not 17 months old...your child is one.”

But now I get it. My babies are just that...babies. And they’re only 14 months old.

This past week, I’ve been sorting through their closet. I’ve listed their old bouncers and swings on Facebook market, placed their infant bathtub in the garage and dried my tears as I packed away the tiny outfits that they grew out of months ago. Some are still hanging in the back of the closet...the little grey and pink onesies that they wore until the materiel started to fade.

I always swore to myself that I would never forget any of their first year, yet as I filled boxes and boxes of their baby things, I’m shocked by how little I seem to remember.

I barely remember them being small enough to fit in those clothes.

I barely remember how I spent the long days with them before they could sit up on their own or what it felt like to hold them both on my chest at the same time.

I don’t even remember their faces when I saw them for the first time.

People warned me that the first year would be a blur, and they were right.

So, if I barely even remember, why is it so hard for me to pack away those little newborn mittens?

I spent a lot of the small amount of energy I had focusing on being in the moment and soaking everything in. I tried to memorize the way they looked at me, the rhythm of their breathing and the touch of their fingers.

Where did it all go?

How could I be so focused on remembering everything that I still forgot it all?

Motherhood is a tug-of-war game between the past and present. It’s fighting for the old memories while time keeps pulling you forward. It’s being tangled in a web of every emotion: joy, fear, love, longing, sadness and an enormous amount of happiness.

So for now, I remember....just this week, or even just today. I write it down so that when I undoubtably forget in the months to come, I can read back and cherish each little thing.

How Nadia is a feisty firecracker.

How Norah is sweet and gentle.

How Nadia laughs when I burp and we both laugh when she burps.

How Norah can point out Mama’s nose, eyes, and belly button.

How Nadia knows how much I love it when she says “Mama” and likes to “boop” people on the nose.

How Norah has said “BALLLL,” and “doggy” (or dog-UE)

How Nadia likes me to hold under her armpits and say “on your mark, get set, GOOO” as she races across the living room, cackling.

How Norah starts dancing any time she hears music.

How Nadia likes to goofy smile back at me in the stroller

How they both love to bounce.

How they get excited and say “dada” when he walks into the room.

How they love to sing “ittsy bitsy spider” with DeeDee.

How they both giggle and clap when you say “YAYYYY!”

How they like to give high-fives.

How they walk in short, thundering little spurts before crashing back down.

How they like to climb and play on the couch.

How proud they look every time they stand on their own.

How they each have those two little bottom teeth, side by side, and how their top chompers are starting to come in like vampire fangs.

How we slow dance after each meal, and how they rest their heads on my chest.

And finally, the overwhelming love I have for them, and how it grows stronger every single day.

Happy 14 months of life, little ones.