Milestones are funny aren't they.
You turn 16, 18, 21, then wait for 30, 40, 50...
And somewhere in there you have kids and they are an hour, a day, a week, 2 weeks, 3 weeks, 4 weeks...5 months, 6 months, 7 months...a year.
Yesterday my baby was 18 months.
EV-ER-Y-ONE says it. "It goes so fast; they grow up so fast; you'll miss this stage when it's gone" etc etc.
And it's true. I do not know where the past year and a half have gone. I remember him turning 6 months like it was yesterday. Some days I'm certain it was. He seems so grown up, so capable. So smart. I watch him walking, running, laughing, signing. I remember him sleeping, breastfeeding, snuggling, crying. The change was instant. I do not remember him learning any of the things he does now, it just changed in a snap of my fingers.
But at the same time I have minimal recollection of our life without him. I don't remember not being a Mum. The past year and a half feel like the whole of my life. I have changed so much, been through so much. I have been pushed to limits I didn't know I had. Experienced emotions I didn't know existed. Felt the highest of highs and hit the lowest of lows. I feel like I have lived 10 years in this short 18 months.
I read yesterday that 18 months is often the point parents accept that their baby is no longer a baby but a little person. I have to admit I got a lump in my throat reading it, knowing how present that feeling is.
And I know that just as quickly we will be celebrating his 18th birthday and I will feel like today was yesterday but that I have lived for 100 years in those 18.
Kids mess with the time continuum. There is no denying it.