It’s August already and I am saddened by the passage of time, days slipping away into the past as simple memories void of sensory sensations. I hold my babies and I want to remember forever what this feels like, right here, the sweetness of their forehead against my lips. How small their waist is against my hips, spooning style, cradled comfortably in the crease of my stomach that once held them inside.

The way Alyssa tucks her arms beneath her body and furrows her face in the nook of my neck. Her long ballerina legs prancing around on tip toes, her funny fast run, arms bent swinging side to side. The way she grabs and dashes away with a toy or item she knows she’s not supposed to have. How she tired to sing ‘Twinkle Twinkle’ the other night.

Big Baby Carly, at least 30lbs by now, stretching past the length of my torso when her small size used to get lost in my chest. Her sloppy kisses and open mouthed smile with such a beautiful gap between her two front teeth, an unsymmetrical row of three Chiclet teeth on the bottom. Her insistent pointing in demand of another ‘Bite!’

Bryce’s sweaty head and for being such a big boy, how he still wants to hold my hand when we walks and cries for his Mama when I’m not in sight. The hilarious stories he makes up or repeats, revising actual events filtered through a two year olds practicality and prose. His heart stabbing stutter. How he claps his hands together almost involuntarily when he gets happy and excited about something. How when he sleeps with me we fit together in perfect synch, his leg thrown over mine.

I want to freeze these simple moments in time, not let them grow any older where they might not want me anymore. Its exaughsting and at the price of me, I am the center of their world and I selfishly like it that way. They are my babies and nobody loves them the way I do. Nobody loves me the way they do.

If I could change anything about the rapid succession of their birth, it would be that I got to spend more time with each of them as an infant. I wish for a whole year or more of their infancy and transition into toddler years spent individually. What a treat that would be, to have each of them all to myself in a way that doesn’t neglect one of the other’s needs. It happens rarely, when we carve out a special trip or day for one on one time, but it doesn’t happen enough.

Sometimes I feel cheated, like my baby years went by in such a whirl of sleep deprivation and struggle to survive. Now it’s closer to being over than beginning, just when I am getting a handle on things and enjoying it. I worry that they are being cheated of me. Each one cheated of being the baby with 100% of me, which is now fragmented into so many smaller percentages that I have to steal moments back for myself. A quick stop by the library where I wonder aimlessly down aisles just admiring the quiet knowledge of the place. Lied about adventures to Kohl’s and JC Penny spending money I don’t even have. I am spent and they are rich with me and want more.

I get annoyed when their early morning cries splinter my sleep like a bullet shot into a peaceful night. I bargain with them in my head.

“Just sleep til 7:00am….. 15 more minutes.”

I get annoyed when I have to change yet ANOTHER dirty diaper. Pissed off for no good reason other than I am tired and in pain and this is my life and there’s nothing I can or want to do about it.

I love how they interact with each other, how Alyssa and Bryce both will bring Carly her Teddy if they find it on the floor or if she’s crying. How Alyssa will run to pat Carly or Bryce’s back in concern if they are crying or hurt. Their head tilt hugs and kisses to each other. Bryce explaining, ‘We were waiting for you Lyssa’ when she is the last one to awake from an afternoon nap and asking, ‘Did we wake you?’ Him telling Carly it’s Ok when she has worked herself up into a fit.

They are just so happy, so, so, so, so, so happy and I want it to stay this way, before the outside world intrudes with reality.