How could this have happened?

It's almost like I looked up two days ago and realized that life does not have a pause button. My life is not on freeze frame while the rest of the world orbits around me. We are in a constant state of move, change, and growth. These facts I can swallow, but it was two days ago that I realized it applied to my children. I looked up and realized Samantha is not a newborn anymore. She can hold her head up by herself. She can sit up (with help, of course). She can stay awake for long stretches (sometimes TOO long of stretches...) She smiles at us when we walk by her, proving that her range of vision continues to expand. She laughs and coos in happy response when we sing to her. She has officially outgrown her 0-3 month clothes, making her - in my estimation - well on the path to being a full-fledged adult. Samantha is growing up. My sweet, sleepy newborn that rested so comfortably in the cradle of my arms...my once helpless little baby, who could barely put pressure on her tiny legs now loves to stand and look around. My Samantha is growing up. How could this have happened?

If that weren't sobering enough, it was also two days ago that I realized Emma, too, has moved on to a new clothing size. All her 18 month clothes are tight around the arms, cover her tummy a little too tightly...signaling that she is no longer an 18-month old. Almost out of denial (and partly because she has really cute clothes) I am prolonging the agony. Surely these capris can last one more day, I think. But I talk myself out of it each morning at the dresser. She is well on her way - can I even get the words out? - to being a two-year old. I don't know whether to cry or cringe, but either way, I can barely believe it. I remember months of toothless grins, now replaced by a mouthful of emerging teeth. I remember precious times of cuddling her close to me, now made impossible by her energetic shrieks - "down! down!" I remember how small Emma looked as a tiny infant in her pack-and-play, then I look hesitatingly over to the new "big-girl-bed" that sits in the corner of Emma's room. I still cannot bring myself to make the transition. My treasured little child - once only Samantha's size - has proven to me with undeniable evidence that no, there is no pause button for these precious years to lazily pass. These special and cherished moments fly by at warp speed, complicated and crowded out by busy lives and hectic schedules. My Emma is growing up. How could this have happened?

So here I sit, listening to one child stay up way past her bed-time, talking to her animals while trapped in her crib, and watching the other child drift off to sleep in her bouncer. Here I ask myself the question, where did the time go? How fast will the next years go by? What can I do to stop the time? Yet I know it is a daily effort - a disciplined, intentional effort - to treasure these days. Running in the rain to the taxi. Watching the sweet face of a newborn sleeping. Helping Emma stir the muffin mix we are making. Wiping the tears that trickle down chubby cheeks. Each day brings its memories. Making the effort to treasure them is MY job.