The older my daughters get the harder I find it to navigate the milestones they keep reaching. Much as I want to rejoice and cheer and encourage them and their newfound skills and independence (and I do), I also want to scream "Stop it. Just stop growing up so fast. I'm not ready for this. Get back in my arms! Where have my babies gone?"

We often take walks in the evening. It used to be just me and the dog (and my growing belly). Then, it was me pushing infant Kelly in the big travel stroller. Then, Lauren came along and I'd carry her in the front pack (or backpack) and push Kelly. When Lauren was old enough, I started pushing them both in a double stroller. A year or so later, we started using the wagon.

Last week, as I struggled to pull 70 lbs. worth of kids up a hill in a wagon, I realized that they had even outgrown the wagon.

Not a moment too soon, the girls both got "big girl" bikes (complete with training wheels, bells, streamers and, of course, helmets) for their birthday last weekend.

Monday I got the bright idea to let my new bikers hit the open road and peddle down the street as Dan and I trotted alongside, compulsively swiveling our heads to watch for oncoming cars as we gently steered them time and again to the side of the road.

With the ding, ding, ding of the Disney Princess bells and the clack, clack, clack of the training wheels on our tar and chip road, I realized we rolled into yet another major milestone. No longer will those girls be content to sit in a stroller or wagon.

Two neighbor ladies who walk together every night came by and stopped to wonder at how quickly the girls had grown. "It seems like just yesterday we saw you walking the dog with your little pregnant belly (referring to my first pregnancy) and now, look at them riding their own bikes!"

"I know," I said as I felt a lump rise in my throat and the tears begin to well up in my eyes as I stumbled over another milestone.