This time last year the only thing I was worried about was planning the perfect 1st birthday part for Noah.
In fact I was so worried about it all I remember from Noah’s last month of infancy is hitting every party store in a 10 mile radius and making sure I had all my pins planned from Pinterest.
What a mistake. Yes, I had my perfect streamers and full blown Mexican fiesta (he was born on Cinco De Mayo and I called it when I found out I was pregnant so it was a running joke) but if I could go back I would ditch the party and soak up that little 11 month old.
The twins weren’t even a thought yet.
I didn’t realize the turn our lives were about to take.
In fact we had just had the conversation that we would wait a year before trying for a brother or sister for Noah (God has quite a sense of humor).
About a month after Noah’s party I found out I was expecting. And we were given loads and loads of twin clothes.
Toward the end of summer it all got mixed up. I was too tired and too big to try to organize any of it.
At some point this fall while I was on bed rest in the hospital Kevin packed up all the clothes people had given us for the twins that they wouldn’t fit for sometime along with the summer clothes.
Last week I sat down to go through a tub of them, looking for 6 month clothes for Evan.
But there sitting on top of all the clothes were a little pair of khaki shorts.
Noah’s khaki shorts. The ones he lived in this past summer.
The ones he took his first steps in, turned 1 in, the ones I cuddled him in almost every day.
The ones that roughed it in the sand box at the park, the ones that lounged in the sand on the beach in Hilton Head on our first family vacation.
I held them to my heart and instantly tears filled my eyes.
My little boy, yes still little, was not this little.
Yes, I have two little brothers following his foot steps and they are even littler than that pair of shorts but it still stung.
It wasn’t a bad sting. More of a melancholy nostalgia.
I could instantly smell his sweet baby head, the one that is now usually a messy little boy sweat head. When I saw the worn knees from crawling I remembered that joy we had watching him take his first steps. I remember that he actually had to grow into these 6-12 month shorts and that they barely fit at 12 months, my boys don’t have butts.
I put the shorts down, wiped my eyes and left the pile of clothes on the nursery floor.
I went down stairs to Noah laying on the couch with a book and curled beside him.
I smelled his hair, kissed his cheek and hugged him tight because it hit me I am right in the middle of the sand pouring through the hourglass of childhood.
He won’t ever be as little as he is right now.
He smiled back at me and gave me a kiss.
We looked at his Runaway Bunny book over and over, backwards and forwards. We looked at the pictures and read the words.
But more than just reading a book and taking a break with him I was there in that moment. I was present and so aware that, that moment while seemingly very little was oh so big.
A moment that next year when I take his favorite striped shirt that he was wearing and pass it down to the twins I will remember that moment.
These moments may pass far too quick but they will never be grown out of.