22 April 2013
Tiny Magicians
You look at him with wide eyes, full of light and hope and trust. You seem to look at him as if he holds the moon up in the sky, as if the way he drives a matchbox car is magic. I suppose, to your tiny little person, it is magic. He is magic.
I wonder if you will always think he is brilliant and magical and trustworthy. Sometimes he bops you on the head and you cry. But moments later you fix your gaze on him and all is right in your little world again. The fascination and admiration with which you look to him is astounding. It leaves me paralyzed at times.
Yet again, I find myself more challenged by you, my second-born, my daughter, than I ever imagined. You, in a different way than your brother, are making me question things I have long held true. You are reminding me how we all begin from a place of love. And you are pushing me to keep open to magic, even if we get bopped on the head.
11 April 2013
All About Adelyn - Month 3
You are more baby than infant now, little girl. You are showing us more and more of your personality - the feistiness and the softness that has been there from the beginning. You still love, love, L.O.V.E. watching your brother. Seeing the two of you interact and developing a relationship is one of the biggest surprises to me these days.
Loves:
- her brother
- smiling
- being upright
- "Eddie" the elephant (an inherited toy that Teddy adored)
- tags on toys
- her hands
- books
- tummy time
Hates:
- baths
- laying down for too long
- public bathroom changing tables
- grasp at objects
- move objects to her mouth
- laugh!!!
- study her hands
- "talk" more and more
- hold her head up for longer stretches
- sit in the Bumbo
- get rolls on her wrists, elbows, and thighs
06 April 2013
The Chasing
We are at the park for the umpteenth time. You love the swings and slides and steering wheel. I love the fresh air and towering pines and ample shade.
This park has become a backdrop to your development; a constant against which to measure your changes. Most recently, you are so excited to interact with other children. You see no obstacles to friendship at this age. If someone starts running, you assume they want you to chase them. And so you do, giggles and dust in your wake.
But today twin 5 year old girls want little to do with you. They are all pink tutus and silver shoes and tights, while you are all sandy knees and dirty fingernails and innocence. They run. You chase. They attempt to exclude you, but to someone who knows no exclusion it makes no sense. So you press on. You sit at their picnic table to share their Cheetos. When they say, "no, these are ours," you shyly wait.
When they exit to use the bathroom, you want to join them. You cry that you want them to come back. And when they return, they run to the slide. And you chase them. The sincerity with which you seek their favor is heartbreaking. On our ride home, when I question "what was your favorite part of the park today?" You respond: "Chasing the girls. I want them come to our house."
I watch in amazement. From your birth I have found my breath taken away by your innocence, in the truest, purest form. There is nothing more genuine in this whole wide world than a young child. But these 5 year old twins have already learned to exclude. They only have 2.5 years on you, but yet that simple acceptance of the world and those who occupy it is lost. I know they are still merely trying to find their place in what must feel like wide open space, and so they play with excluding someone who is easy to exclude.
But, oh my heart, how stunned I am. How so blatantly in front of me is everything that makes life and relationships so difficult. And while I have lived through this process of navigating friendships and being excluded and excluding others, it physically hurts me to think about how you will go through this. You will, someday obviously soon, realize that there is often us and them, in and out. And some days you will find yourself on one side of the fence, and the next day, the other.
Today, though, amidst these pine trees and slides and fresh air and steering wheels, I see what it might be like if we could keep your innocence. If only we could remain truly blind to pink tutus and silver shoes and gender and skin color. If only we all just wanted to play chase with any old soul that came along, and then invite them into our home.
This park has become a backdrop to your development; a constant against which to measure your changes. Most recently, you are so excited to interact with other children. You see no obstacles to friendship at this age. If someone starts running, you assume they want you to chase them. And so you do, giggles and dust in your wake.
But today twin 5 year old girls want little to do with you. They are all pink tutus and silver shoes and tights, while you are all sandy knees and dirty fingernails and innocence. They run. You chase. They attempt to exclude you, but to someone who knows no exclusion it makes no sense. So you press on. You sit at their picnic table to share their Cheetos. When they say, "no, these are ours," you shyly wait.
When they exit to use the bathroom, you want to join them. You cry that you want them to come back. And when they return, they run to the slide. And you chase them. The sincerity with which you seek their favor is heartbreaking. On our ride home, when I question "what was your favorite part of the park today?" You respond: "Chasing the girls. I want them come to our house."
I watch in amazement. From your birth I have found my breath taken away by your innocence, in the truest, purest form. There is nothing more genuine in this whole wide world than a young child. But these 5 year old twins have already learned to exclude. They only have 2.5 years on you, but yet that simple acceptance of the world and those who occupy it is lost. I know they are still merely trying to find their place in what must feel like wide open space, and so they play with excluding someone who is easy to exclude.
But, oh my heart, how stunned I am. How so blatantly in front of me is everything that makes life and relationships so difficult. And while I have lived through this process of navigating friendships and being excluded and excluding others, it physically hurts me to think about how you will go through this. You will, someday obviously soon, realize that there is often us and them, in and out. And some days you will find yourself on one side of the fence, and the next day, the other.
Today, though, amidst these pine trees and slides and fresh air and steering wheels, I see what it might be like if we could keep your innocence. If only we could remain truly blind to pink tutus and silver shoes and gender and skin color. If only we all just wanted to play chase with any old soul that came along, and then invite them into our home.
02 April 2013
Shifting
Here's the thing. After having a baby, your body is just never the same. After having a second baby, it feels like I have inherited some body that has never before existed. My skin literally feels different. The rise and fall of my walk seems altered to me. Everything feels shifted.
And so it is with life too. Things are moving, if ever so slightly, to some place they have never before occupied. New roles are being developed; new personalities are emerging; new routines are being created. It all feels a bit unsettling, sometimes in a good way and sometimes in a scary way. Life feels, to me, stretched, altered, irrevocably different.
We can never go home again, so the saying goes. Whether that be my hips or my changed perspective, I find this to be very true these days.
And so it is with life too. Things are moving, if ever so slightly, to some place they have never before occupied. New roles are being developed; new personalities are emerging; new routines are being created. It all feels a bit unsettling, sometimes in a good way and sometimes in a scary way. Life feels, to me, stretched, altered, irrevocably different.
We can never go home again, so the saying goes. Whether that be my hips or my changed perspective, I find this to be very true these days.
26 March 2013
Overheard
Teddy: I need some chocolate milk so I can get these boogies out my nose.
Me (giggling): Oh yeah? You think chocolate milk will help get the boogers out of your nose?
Teddy: Yeah!
Me: How about we try using a tissue and you blow your nose?
Teddy: Umm no. I just need some chocolate milk.
Me (heads off to the fridge).
Filed under "Winning" and "Thing #28976497423 That You Can't Argue About With a Toddler"
Me (giggling): Oh yeah? You think chocolate milk will help get the boogers out of your nose?
Teddy: Yeah!
Me: How about we try using a tissue and you blow your nose?
Teddy: Umm no. I just need some chocolate milk.
Me (heads off to the fridge).
Filed under "Winning" and "Thing #28976497423 That You Can't Argue About With a Toddler"
10 March 2013
All About Adelyn - Month 2
Adelyn changes by the day it seems. At this age, you can really see differences over night and it reminds me how precious each moment is; how time is so fleeting, so valuable. So often I find myself thinking back and savoring, but I want to be better at savoring in the moment. In the midst of the crazy, I want to stop and close my eyes and think "one day, not so far away, I will miss this."
Without futher ado, here is all about Adelyn in her 2nd month:
Loves:
- her brother (watches him, smiles at him, coos at him, gives him the side-eye)
 |
| perfecting the side eye |
- "standing" (holding her in the standing up position with most of her weight still in our hands, obviously)
- chewing on her fingers
- smiling
- interacting/being talked to
- looking at books/being read to
Hates:
- baths (most times)
- being cold
- loud, sudden noises (but, really, who likes this?)
- being tired (again, who likes this?)
- "stand"
- hold her head up like a champ
- sleep at night like a champ
- coo at us
27 February 2013
2
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| Photo by Rachel Withers Photography |
Two is tough and tiring and I can barely remember having only one (but that may just be the exhaustion talking).
Two means rarely having a moment that isn't devoted to someone other than myself. If I thought I was working on not being selfish as a mother of one, whoa boy does having two shine a light on where I still harbor "me, me, me."
Two means double the tired, double the poopy diapers, double the carseats to juggle. Double the crying, double the smiles, double the laundry.
Two means learning how to entertain a toddler while feeding a newborn; it means navigating the world of double strollers and "who the heck do I get out of the car first at Target when it's raining and I'm not sure if I should use the cart or the double stroller."
Two means double the learning; two little people who are constantly teaching me how to breathe and let it go - you can shower tomorrow, after all. Two means double the lessons in patience and teamwork and the beauty that can really be amidst the chaos.
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