During each of my children’s first years, I was like a hawk, constantly watching to make sure the milestones were being met at the right time. Being slightly Type A (if by slightly, you mean obsessively, compulsively Type A, that is), I actually wrote down at what point the kids hit all the milestones. And having twins didn’t help – I would write down the dates that each of them did each thing to compare. S tracked me with her eyes a week before D did, but D rolled over 2 weeks before S.

I was no less obsessive with my youngest, comparing everything he did to his brother and sister. My husband called me a doofus, but I persisted! These milestones were of paramount importance! What if the pediatrician asked me about their startle reflex? What if I didn’t have the answer? Surely, such a crime would warrant a visit from CPS.

Yes, indeedy. I was a moron.

Putting aside my moronicity (yes, that is a word. I know it’s a word because I just made it up), there are some big achievements that all parents wait for during that first year.

Sleeping through the night (I still recite 3 months and 4 months as if they are some badge of honor. And don’t get me going on how proud I was when my youngest slept through the night at 5 weeks *whisper* he’s my favorite *whisper*).

Eating solid foods.

And of course the twin pinnacles of the first year of life (more or less) – walking and talking.

Every grunt, growl, and shriek was parsed during the second half of the first year to see if any meaning could actually be ascribed to it. Clearly, when S babbled, “ah bi bu flur,” she was explaining that she would rather watch Charlie Rose than another Baby Einstein DVD.

And when D very eloquently prattled on about “de da di do dumdumdumdum,” it was evident to me that he was trying to predict the subprime mortgage crisis.

And my youngest? His exhortations of “ga ca famafama” were a rallying cry for education reform. My husband continued to look at me as if I were a doofus, but I was tracking milestones!

He was more interested in the walking. I can understand that. I didn’t have small babies (my twins were 5 weeks early and weight 6lbs.8.5oz. and 7lbs.4.5oz and my youngest was 11.5lbs. Yes, you read that right. 11.5lbs. I’ve cooked Thanksgiving turkeys smaller than that kid). Carrying these little butterballs around quickly became exhausting. What could be better than letting them toddle off? What a relief to our aching backs!

My twins are 5 and my youngest will be 3 on Thursday. They have been walking and talking for years now. And where has all this walking and talking gotten us?

Nothing but trouble.

Walking, for those who did not know, leads to running, jumping, climbing, rappelling, scaling and belaying, generally off of my couch. Which in turns leads to increased Band-Aid usage, a Neosporin addiction, and being on a first-name basis with the emergency room nurses.

Talking is even more dangerous than walking. My kids, and my daughter in particular, can speak without ceasing for hours on end. Don’t believe me? It takes 12 minutes to get from the summer camp to our house. Wanna guess how many questions my daughter asked me in that 12 minutes?

52.

Show me the mother who doesn’t want to open the nearest bottle of wine when asked 52 questions in 12 minutes and I’ll show you a mother who prefers beer. More dangerous indeed.

Not too long ago, I read the following adage:

You spend the first year of your children’s life waiting for them to walk and talk, and the rest of their lives waiting for them to sit down and shut up.

I’m embroidering that on a pillow. Which I can then use to either cushion falls off the couch or cover my ears to avoid the constant questions.