According to your birth certificate and the 2010 calendar, it happened on June 24.

But how did this day arrive so quickly? You’ve been riding in a sling or bouncing on my hip for months, so how did 365 days pass before my eyes? I demand a recount.

It’s been said that “the days are long and the years are short,” and that’s exactly how being a mom feels to me. My first son is 4, and before he was born I spent a lot of time anticipating those infant months, watching him grow into toddlerhood and eventually heading off to school. But when his “birth day” arrived, time seemed to speedup. It was like getting on a roller coaster – I was caught in a whirlwind of sleep deprivation and activity. I was right there, yet it felt like I missed so much.

When his baby brother was about to make his entry into the world, once again, I experienced the intoxicating bliss of prepping for a newborn – pulling out boxes of tiny sleepers and Onesies, rattles and tub toys. And even though I got the chance to do it all again, it wasn’t the do-over I had expected.

This baby had a different temperament. I was different–more relaxed in some ways, more anxious in others. I had been down this new-mom road before, but along the way, I discovered new challenges: learning how to meet the needs of two children at the same time; coming to terms with my shortcomings and imperfections; realizing how human I am, while remaining the center of their individual worlds.

Eventually I emerged from the haze and started to get my groove back. And that’s when I blinked my eyes and realized another whole year had passed.

Running after two little boys can be exhausting.

I often feel like I’ve been wiped out by a Big Wheel, but I’m in no hurry to pack up the toys that clutter my floors and make me trip. I try to soak it all in: Rocking my youngest, folding him into a ball, squeezing his chunky thighs and kissing the top of his downy head. His big brother is mostly knees and elbows now, but he can curl up like a boy Transformer and fit snugly in my lap.

I embrace these moments, and then I have to let them go. That is the joy and the pain of motherhood. As I watched my baby boy blow out his first candle, I took a mental picture and filed it into my memory with all the others.

The years may be short, but I find comfort in knowing I never really lose what I hold in my heart. *

AngieMizzell does most of her writing with her two small children swinging from her limbs. Her personal essays have been published in several print and online publications. Contact her at angiemizzell.com.