I've been itching to blog for the past few days but it's never seemed the right moment. I had a moment tonight where I almost lost it looking at a picture of Cai when he was one. A year and a half later and I'm already dreading kindergarten, dragging my feet as time passes and cursing every day. I have that crazy disease where I want my babies to stay with me forever. I'm going to be one of those moms who cleans smudges off their faces with spit when their 25. Ok, I'm going to try not to be one of those moms, but I secretly want to be. I try really hard to be a good mother - a patient, loving, interested and fun mom. I don't always succeed but I'm always trying. Many days I feel like a child who has been given these little creatures to protect. Caring for them gives me this distinct feeling of vulnerability. I wonder how my small stature could ever shelter them enough from all the bad things in the world. I worry about when they are no longer little - how will I shield them from falling debris if there are explosions? If everything falls apart? I know I just can't plan that far. So I sit here with the two of them on my lap - they both still fit you know - and I swing my feet back and forth, marveling at all the room I have to grow before they touch the ground.