Halfway to 4

I feel like I should write something profound for their second birthday. Something poetic, insightful, wondrously quotable.
It has, after all, been a monumental year for Matthew and Jonathan. They learned to walk. They learned to talk. They exchanged bottles for sippy cups. They even learned that they are separate entities--that Matt is Matt and Jon is Jon.
Every day, their maturity and the skills that come with it enable Matthew and Jonathan to give us more and more glimpses into the people they are and the people they will become.
Yet, as we celebrated their birthday yesterday, I found I couldn't do it.
I couldn't write about those things.
All I could think about--honestly--is that 2 is halfway to 4 and that by 4, they will be potty trained, they will respond to reason at some level, they will no longer need a stroller and they will talk in sentences.
That doesn't mean I want to rush them.
No, not at all.
I don't want them to grow up too fast. I adore their little kisses on my lips, cheeks and nose. I long for their tiny hands around my neck. I cherish their nonsensical exchanges that result in fits of giggles.
And, wow. That unconditional trust only babies and toddlers have. That belief that mom is all-powerful, all-knowing, all-everything. That she is flawless. I see that in their eyes as they reach for me. They believe that I can make anything better. They really do.
No, I don't want to rush through that.
But they exhaust me lately as much as they exhilarate me.
And I find the exhaustion much easier to contend with if I have something to look forward to.
So, on their birthday, while I was chasing them around the house trying desperately to persuade them to keep their clothes and diapers on at least until our neighbors arrived for cake and ice-cream, I focused on the future.
I focused on how much easier it will become instead thinking about how hard it sometimes has been. With that in mind, I found I could laugh at our little strippers and I caught them.
They made it through the evening fully clothed.