17-Month-Olds are Delightful

My boy waves his arms so unabashedly filled with excitement that you are unable to stop yourself from fits of laughter.  When he propels himself flapping his wings toward you for a hug, you feel a hot tear flush with joy rise up and you just go with it.  He smiles at you with those perfect chiclet teeth with the gap in the middle of the top two and his terribly crooked Mommy haircut and you feel lucky to be the recipient of his mischief.  Nobody anywhere has ever been more excited about anything than my boy.  His anger and frustration is equally measured and expressed on the other side.

My girl looks down at her belly and pulls her shirt up to share her belly button with you gleefully smiling at what she’s found and she’s sure you will be just as delighted.  She is right.  She smiles the sweetest smile and runs with her arms down at her sides leaning forward with great purpose.  He antennae pigtails have gone cockeyed and it’s the most magical thing you’ve ever seen in your life.  She wants you in on her secrets and gives the most delicious abundant hugs that make you feel as though this is your only purpose.  My girl is more even keeled and less temperamental than her brother.  Most of the time.

“Gut ghuta guh gut ghuta guh gut ghuta gut”  my girl and her guttural rhythmic utterances.  Pointing to every object in a book and looking with wide eyed wonder up at me to tell her what everything is and trying to repeat after me but it comes out in gibberish as she keeps trying.  I will do this until I lose my voice for her.  Until the book disintegrates or she no longer needs me to tell her or looks at me with that look…..

“BYE LEWIS.”  We know no one named Lewis, but he sure says what sounds like this a lot.

It would seem that he is quite obsessed with saying “BYE DADA” and he is sometimes, but if you listen a bit closer and pay attention to what it is he is saying, with his eyes, with his soul, you hear the differences.  He is saying goodbye to the moment. He is acknowledging that something happened or someone was there and he is saying goodbye to that person or thing and moving on to the next.  He is giving it closure and recognition before approaching something new.  That is how I try to live my life.  Acknowledge each and every moment, then say goodbye to it and move onto the next.  BE FULLY PRESENT.

She fits the goat piece into the puzzle and claps and says “yaaaaay” for herself and you always want her to do that.  Her entire life.  She needs a little help with the chicken and you softly say, “keep trying” and she does and she gets in in there and she looks at you full of pride with her accomplishment and you mirror that right back to her.

He loves bananas and she is not into it.  They eat at a little table and chairs all their own now instead of high chairs and when he is finished with his food, she reaches for it.  She loves strawberries and he’s a blueberry man.  Eggs are intolerable  (HOW DARE YOU GIVE US THESE EGGS MOMMY) for a couple weeks and then BAM, they love them again.  French toast is my secret weapon for tricking them into eating eggs.  Almond butter and jam is their favorite sandwich.  We should own stock in grapes.  Perfect for Summer.  She asks to be excused by saying “all done” and he just gets up and wanders around a little but then goes back because he knows that’s where he’s supposed to eat his food.  We are getting there.


They talk to each other in full sentences.  Not words that we can understand mind you, but they get it, man.  They read together.  They watch programs together and laugh at the same parts.  They look at each other to see reactions.

There’s room in our new home to run around in circles and chase each other with wicked laughter 88 times in a row.  That’s worth it right there.


They adore their new sandbox that my best girlfriend gave them, and you know what?  I do too.  I don’t even give a rip about the mess.  Who cares?  If she enjoys tasting the sand, so be it.  They carry around their little containers full of rocks and sand and are so proud of what they’ve accomplished.

They bring each other snacks, water, stuffed animals and toys and your heart feels as though it will careen out of your chest.  It’s almost too much sometimes, as though you cannot handle the strength at which the love is pouring in and out of your heart and you may need backup.

Luckily you have backup.  You have your village and your loves all around you and it is good.  It is so very delightful.  This is the stuff, right here.

There are worms to caress and puddles to stomp and whole new worlds to conquer.  Together.


I encountered a woman at a party last week who saw me chasing my boy around and said while shaking her head, “Do you have any fun at all?  I couldn’t wait for my kids to grow up.  I can’t imagine having two at the same time.”

I blinked and stared at her a minute because I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing and simply said, “Are you kidding me?  This is the most fun in the world!  We paid a hefty price for these miracles and they are the best.”

I’ve thought about her comment and how sad it is that she missed out on all this fun because she was living in the “just wait untils……”  We did pay a price. Mentally, emotionally, physically and monetarily.  Infertility does that to a couple.  But it was well worth it and keeps paying us back every single day we get to be parents.

You only go around once.  Make it count.  Every moment.  Even the really crappy ones that you hate but hopefully grow from.  For they make the joyful moments all that much sweeter.


Thanks so much for reading!  If you like what you read, I encourage you to share the love by sharing this post. 

Type your email address in the box and click the “create subscription” button. My list is completely spam free, and you can opt out at any time.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: