My Little Meg(s)

I laughed to myself today at the sight of BabyGirl in her sister’s outgrown dress under a red ruffled top with her brown suede boots on the wrong feet.  The dress is really still too large for her, so even if the weather were, in fact, warm enough for spaghetti strap sundresses, the shirt would still be required to prevent flashing the world through the too low neckline and gaping armholes.  As we headed towards the glass doors of her school, she confidently slung her lunchbox on her shoulder like a purse and sauntered towards the defunct green button marked “EXIT” that she insists on pushing daily before crossing the threshold. 

She is quite a character.

Today, the spring in her step reminded me sharply of Meg Ryan’s quirky walk in You’ve Got Mail.  Then, the more I thought of it, I realized she is Meg Ryan.  Well, in a matter of speaking.

First off, let me point out: she’s a Gemini.  The twins. Soooooo true.

Twin #1: Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail

Feminine, yet not overly prissy.  She’s smart, quirky, spunky, and independent.  She isn’t afraid to speak her mind – no matter how giant the foe….and all of this tucked neatly away beneath the exterior of sugar and spice and all things nice.  She is just so “cute”.

BabyGirl has a side of her that is sweet as pure honey.  “Esscuse me, Mommy.  When djou are done can djou please get me som’mor golefish?”  She loves and dotes on the doggies with the gentlest of hands, pulling them to her and kissing their cheeks.  She holds me, kisses my face and rests her head on my shoulder and spontaneously says, “I love you.”  She’s been a little cuddle bunny from her own very beginning, wanted to be held even more so than BigGirl (always described as a cuddly baby herself) ever did.  Because of her sleep struggles, BabyGirl sweetly, pitifully asks us to “soffly” her (rub her face and arms softly) until she falls asleep. 

Yet, she has that joyful quirkiness and independence to her spirit that tells her to wear a short-strapped purse across her body like a messenger bag and sport shoes on the wrong feet, despite repeated corrections. (She likes them that way.)

Twin #2: Meg Ryan in Addicted to Love

She’s a bit hard core.  Do not cross her; she will come at you full throttle.  She holds grudges and is smart enough, sly enough, and determined enough to see those grudges to the bitter end.  Her emotions are raw and unfiltered.  She is a force to be reckoned with….

I told you about her first cat fight at school, didn’t I?  I’ve long thought it humorous that I am more often than not rescuing her older sister from her rather than the other way around. (In fact, I cannot think of a single time I’ve had to rescue her from her sister.)  She does everything with a passion – all the way back to nursing and taking bottles.  (That’s when FireDaddy and I started joking that we fully expect to walk into a party one day and find her upside-down beneath a funnel.) 

She is just starting to give BigGirl a run for her money with the smarts.  Just the other day I overheard her spouting off (with a tone of sass, might I add) in the backseat to her big sister about Pluto’s status as a dwarf planet.  

And you know the old trick of promising dessert for those who finish their dinner?  Forget it.  If she doesn’t want it – she isn’t going to eat it.  She’ll sooner pass on her favorite dessert than let you get your way.  The end.  No negotiating.  “Akch-ually, I don’t want chocolate ice cream,” and she’s finished.  For real.  You may as well save your breath.

As for cleaning up toys?  “BabyGirl, if you don’t help clean up I’m going to throw these toys away!”

“OK, Mommy.  You can frow dem away.” 

…and I do…..and she doesn’t care. The girl means what she says.

 

This BabyGirl of mine surprises me everyday.  It is so amazing to watch her start to stretch out her legs as she is figures out which way those legs will take her.  I have a feeling, no matter which way her road will lead, it’s going to be a wild ride.   We are going to have some kind of fun.

Table Talk

“So, tell me about your day,” I usually begin. 

Inevitably, my initial maneuvers do not produce much chatter, leaving me to follow up with one of the many other questions I keep handy like the shiny, steel tools of a dentist.  I am prepped to pull teeth at a moment’s notice. 

What was the best part of your day today? Your least favorite part?

Did you ask any questions today?

What did you write about in writers’ workshop today?

Who did you play with on the playground?

How was tumbling?

What books did your teacher read to you?

How did you and [insert other half of recently unstable friendship] get along today?

Who did you sit next to at lunch?

On most evenings, I’ve usually cracked the safe after one or two questions.  In fact, I often need to regroup and try to reel their focus back to the meal. 

This evening, BigGirl’s topic of daily review focused around boys.  (Like mother, like daughter!) 

For a few months now, I’ve silently suspected that Boy #1 has a bit of a puppy crush on my girl.  This is, of course, based in part on tales of playful teasing I’ve heard, but also on a few exchanges I’ve witnessed from across the room or playground.  My girl rolls her eyes as she tells all about how he always sits next to her and has given her his own little nickname for her.  I happen to believe he’s pulling her pigtails…if you know what I mean.

Boy #2 is new on the scene.  I don’t know him, and I’m really pulling out all the stops to get any good leads on him…but by the sound of the preliminary intelligence I’ve gathered thus far, he too “could be a contender”.

 

Chiming in from the other side of the table, BabyGirl eagerly spent her precious “turn to talk” stringing together a long, drawn-out tale that could captivate the attention of a herd of cats.  Tonight she told us all about playing on a bouncy house inside the gymnasium (“because it was too cold and windy to go out on the playground, Ms. Teacher said”) until the real live horse that was at her school ran away, but – luckily for us – the baby horse (Yeah, you didn’t know there was a baby horse, did ya?) stayed…well, that is, until Bad Boy in her class called it a poo-poo face and Ms. Teacher told the boys and girls a story about a baby alligator.  “But, last night, when I was born, I read that book before,” she finally concluded.

Perplexed?  So are we.  Every. Single. Time.

 

Regardless of believability (or even coherence) of their dinner table tales, I love listening to their little memories (and fantasies) of the day.

Oh, and the sweetest part?  Many nights, after BigGirl’s rattled on and on about her daily dose of drama for a while, she gets a little quiet before cheerily looking across the table at me and saying, “So, Mommy.  How was your day?”

My Little-Big BabyGirl

I write here so often about BigGirl, and really quite rarely about BabyGirl.  This, of course, has nothing to do with any discrepancies in my love for the two of them, but all to do with the nature of the relationship between a 6 1/2 year-old and her mommy, versus a 3 1/2 year-old and her mommy.  However, I can honestly say that I can see this is all about to change.

BabyGirl is still my little Snuggle Bunny and Whiny Britches.  She’s the youngest, she knows it, and she takes full advantage of that status.  She still gets “free rides” whenever she wants them.  She has her own little blue pillow for sleeping in my bed beside me.  She is “scared” to be alone, even in her own room when it’s bright as day.  She has a “woe is me, I’m so pitiful” face that could win academy awards…if it didn’t make you laugh.  She can stick that lip out at least a mile.

But, everyday she’s growing up.  She’s pushing and testing and sassing and declaring her independence – but only when she wants it.

“No – I do it!” as a two inch length of toothpaste falls into the sink.

“No – I can do it!” as she pours half a cup of parmesan cheese onto her plate, and then asks for a spoon.

“No – I don’t wanna wear dat.  I look like a BOY!” as she sees me approach her only pair of jeans.

“No – I don’t want dessert!” as she climbs down from her chair, refusing to eat her meat.  (Apparently, she’s interested in trying vegetarianism.)

All of this, and I can honestly say she’s actually getting better.  This is NOTHING compared to her terrible two stage.  My little Miss Thing has a temper and a will that cannot be broken.

Recently, she’s accomplished a few firsts for her baby book.  It’s funny – as a mommy, at some point you quit tracking things like first tooth, first word, first steps, and start tracking other sorts of milestones…like, “first cat fight at school”. 

“Picked BabyGirl up from school today.  Was so excited to hear that she got in her first fight today!!! This little girl of mine, she’s a feisty one…she wouldn’t let that sassy little friend take HER swing.  No, she let loose her fury and cat scratched that little girl’s neck before shoving her to the ground…oh, what a day it was today.  *sniff, sniff* My baby is growing up…Wish I could claim credit for this achievement, but alas, she gets her ‘fightin’ skillz’ from her Daddy.”

Or, another example, “first trip to the ER”.

“It finally happened!  We are so proud of our BabyGirl!  I thought for sure BigGirl had her beat when she fell reaching for a CD player on the bar and pulled it down on top of her head, but I was mistaken.  Tonight, BabyGirl actually made it happen!!! She took a lesson from BigGirl and, she too, fell from a stool.  But, my little overachiever didn’t rely on something heavy to hit her just right in the head.  No, she took matters into her own hands – or mouth, so to speak – and sent three teeth straight through her bottom lip.  They actually went clear through to the other side!  I’m so proud of my girl!  Many kids try this, but it doesn’t always go all the way through.  I always knew she could do anything she set her mind to!”

All joking aside, she is growing up every day.  She pushes our buttons, but I know that is a sign of strength.  And that strength will take her far one day.  (She seriously did wow me with her bravery throughout the excitement of her fall and subsequent trip to the hospital.)  So, look to hear more about her here soon.  I expect she will bring her strength and courage to this venue just as intently as she brings it into my days.

Sisters

I always wanted a sister.  I still wish I had one.  One that was really mine – not just obligated by marriage or some sort of Uber-Friend.  I dreamt of a sister on whom I could stake my claim, in whom I could expect undying loyalty.  A bond of blood, chromosomes, life and heart.  A history filled with pinky-promises, tearful fights, side-splitting laughter, and whispers in the dark.

I love watching my girlies cuddle like kittens – in front of the TV, eating snacks, beneath quilts and sheets, even at the kitchen table.  Everyday their closeness – or, rather, their absence of personal space and boundaries – amazes me.  It is not the same with brothers.

Yet, I am surprised at how rough and tumble they can be.  More and more, lately, I find them man-handling each other – wrestling around like hyper little puppies in a pen, knowing full well that Mama will snatch them up by the scruff of their neck any  second.  I’ll walk through the den and find them behind the couch, halfway beneath an end table – one sister pinned flat on her back as the other straddles her chest.  Their giggles escalating uncontrollably like wild fires.

BabyGirl was less than a year old when we moved them into the same bedroom.  At a routine well check-up, I hashed out  some baby sleep questions with the pediatrician.  At the time, he asked me if I wanted BabyGirl to be more reliant on me or her sister.  Did I want her to learn to be comforted by BigGirl in the night, or me?  I knew then that, while I did not wish to place a burden on BigGirl, I wanted them to share a close bond that would comfort them both throughout their nights – and days – forever.

A long time ago, My Daddy told my brothers and me that we were the closest thing in the world to each other.  He spoke these words in a fit of frustration and heartbreak; we fought like cats and dogs.  I’ve never forgotten that lecture.  In fact, I’ve preached my own version of it a few times to my girlies.

On the last occasion I tried to impart that pearl of wisdom to my girls, I watched BigGirl’s eyes tearfully soak up my message.  I explained to her that, one day, a long time away from today, Mommy and Daddy would be gone.  We would be in heaven.  But, they wouldn’t be alone because they would have each other.  That is the best, most important gift Mommy and Daddy has ever given them – each other.  They will be best friends, worst enemies, soul mates, teacher and student, companions, playmates, competition, and – one day – parents to each other.  Over time, they will be everything to each other.

To each other, they will scream obscenities, hurl prized possessions, confide deepest secrets, and confess dreams and fears.  Between them, they will protect each others’ stories.  They will know each other better than FireDaddy and I will ever know either of them.  A bittersweet thought.

I love my girlies.  I love BigGirl and I love BabyGirl.  I love them more than I know how to describe.  But, what I love even more than either of them is their sisterhood.  My love for them as a pair is exponentially larger and grander and more amazingly overwhelming than my love for either of them independently.

When I was pregnant with BabyGirl, I feared that this wonderful new addition would jeopardize my relationship with BigGirl.  I worried that I could not possibly love another baby as much as I so obviously loved her.  I worried about jealousy, sibling rivalry, perceived favoritism, and all sorts of potential threats.  I sought the council of friends, my mother, and every mother of multiple children I knew.

One mother, I don’t remember who, finally spoke the words that settled the worry in my heart.  “Don’t think of it as taking something away from her…you are giving her a gift no one else can, a gift like no other.  You are giving her the best gift of all – a sister.”

Cold.

Even in Florida, it has been darn right cold outside this week. The kind of cold that makes you crave pajamas. Sweat pants. Big, squishy, crew socks. Hoodies. Blankets and quilts. Blazing fires in your fireplace and hot cocoa -- or the “grown-up” version of cocoa, hot lattes.

My bed has taken quite good care of me each night; a quilt, and sometimes a throw blanket, layered on top of my coverlet. Even with the assistance of a crow bar, I would still struggle to pry myself loose from its warm embrace. My personal bed heaters, Bo and Daisy, have risen to the occasion beautifully. Bo dutifully curls up by my feetsies, keeping my sock-clad toesies warm. Daisy wads her balled-up self under my arm and, on occasion, moves to my pillow in the night, molding to the top of my head like a canine stocking cap.

My kitchen, this week, has pumped out comfort food: crock-pot chicken with dressing, pork chops, chili, spaghetti, and, coming soon, asparagus & green pea risotto. For this weekend, I’m planning a roast, cooked over the course of the day. On Monday, we celebrated a successful first day back to “the grind” with a fresh batch of fudge brownies and tall glasses of skim milk.

Ironically, this week (by far the coldest week in recent memory) BigGirl’s homework included star gazing. Star gazing. In freezing temperatures. So, she and FireDaddy bundled up in their warmest winter gear, and spent time in the dark night yard, searching for constellations.  Orion, Cassiopeia, Lepus… The Lollipop. They shivered as they came inside, sporting red noses, rosy cheeks, and excited smiles.  They talked loudly and with renewed energy as they told BabyGirl and I their every observation.

Each night this week, the girlies have prayed for snow, wishing against all odds that the magic of inside-out jammies would bring a winter weather miracle to Florida. BigGirl has gone so far as wearing three layers inside out…an undershirt, and two layers of pajamas – all inside-out. Each morning, BabyGirl has crept straight from sleep, eyes filled with hope, to the sliding glass door to check for snow. Each day, these hopeful girlies have been disappointed only momentarily, realizing they can try again tonight, and maybe tomorrow will be different.

While much of me is tired of the frivolous annoyances brought on by the cold – covering plants, dripping faucets, the weight of extra coats, bundling up protesting children, searching closets, drawers and hampers for weather-appropriate clothes for the girlies, starting the car early each morning and carrying blankets to warm my Drama Princesses on the way to school – I must admit that much of me has enjoyed it.  In some ways, it is a fun, refreshing change of pace.  It’s fun to wear scarves and hats and gloves and tights and boots.  Create a new look, a new “cold weather you”.  It’s fun to cozy up in the big bed together, shivering between cold sheets.  It’s such a treat to enjoy a warm fire (especially living with FireDaddy…but that’s another post) and feel your heart flutter at the prospect of future flurries. 

The cold has returned pieces of my childhood to my mind.  The smell of snow.  Counting marshmallows in my hot chocolate.  Watching the way those marshmallows slowly soften and get bubbly as they melt into my warm treat.  My Mama relentlessly prodded and stoked the fire.  Daddy, in his Wellington boots, stocking cap, brown jacket and gloves, replenished firewood from stacks out back.  I remember how cold my feet were as they walked on the tile in our Texas home, and how, as I played outside, my fingers and face stung long before I confessed my chill to anyone.  A gray winter sky hung low above brown, dormant yards.  Barren gray trees stretching from cold red clay to touch heavy clouds.  Freezing cold air carried the smell of burning wood to my nose.  I hear the crunch of snow under my feet and remember stiffly walking in my heavy winter jacket and boots.  One year, the lake froze and I stood fearful on the safety of the back law, watching in awe as my crazy uncles walked out onto the ice, playing and goofing around like a bunch of overgrown boys.  One year, the unexpected sight of snow in the morning as I woke up at a friend’s house made me homesick.  You should be at home when it snows, I thought.  I missed My Mama and My Daddy and my brothers.

I’m a little homesick today at the thought of it all. 

Hello there, Winter.  I’ve missed you, too.

 

Photo credits:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/elifayse/ / CC BY 2.0

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety-Jig

We made it home safely last night from our Hillbilly Holiday.  Today, the girlies and I have done virtually nothing other than bask in the comfort of home, only venturing out to retrieve our loving and faithful pets from their “camp” and make a quick stop for Christmas card photos. 

I promised my girlies an afternoon treat of cocoa and cookies.  Today’s snack was made better by a special holiday serenade from Michael Buble.   Later, we spent more than an hour gathered around the kitchen table, catching up on our advent coloring pages.  (My hand has yet to fully recover from The Crayola Grip.) 

My suitcase still lies in the floor of my office, waiting for me to properly unpack the clean shirts, socks, pants, and sweaters.  Laundry from our journey, now washed, dried, and folded neatly, patiently awaits my attention.  My guest bedroom remains a pile of projects to complete and gifts to prepare.  My refrigerator and cupboards are nearly bare and I’ve no specific plans yet for holiday baking or special eats. 

Today, the girlies focused their energy today on reuniting with their toys and various belongings.  BabyGirl slept for hours this evening curled up in a chair like a kitten.  I chatted with My Mama, FireDaddy’s Mama, and my girlies.  I cuddled my puppies and kissed my babies.  I talked with friends and gave thanks for our safe return. 

My Blackberry is filled with notes on thoughts from my journey I’d like to share with you….but today is not the day, friends. 

I am so glad to be home again.

Christmas for My Girlies

Christmas, if you ask me, is best seen through the eyes of a child.  I love watching my little girlies experience the magic.  So, naturally, some of my most favorite Christmas decorations are the ones centered around my babies.

One of the earliest traditions began as a gift from a secret Santa [My brother and sister-in-law].  Before BabyGirl was with us, a box containing this advent house appeared unexpectedly on our front porch.  This beautiful house brings so much excitement to our family throughout the entire month of December.  Every night, we open a door and discover the treasure is hiding inside.  Hair bows, bath fizzies, candies, “grow me” pets, coin purses, stamps, stickers, play dough and more.  As BabyGirl has grown and taken a more active role in holidays, they take turns opening doors each night.  BigGirl opens all the odds, BabyGirl opens the evens.  Some doors contain items to be shared, while others hold something for each of them.  In years past, some treats have been a little larger than these little doors can handle.  In those cases, our little elf has been known to leave clues guiding the way to their daily dose of Christmas cheer.

 

Last year, we welcomed a brand new tradition to our home:  Elway, the Elf on the Shelf.  Elway and his friends have become quite the rage all over the land of Christmas, it seems…but that doesn’t make him any less special to us.  I laughed this year as BabyGirl said to me, “Mommy. He watching me.  I don’t want him watching me.”  (Guilty conscience, my dear??) This year, it was apparent that Elway brought the house with him on his long trek from the North Pole.  And…he brought with him another mysterious box…with no return address.

 

 

Elway also brought with him this adorable pink tree.   We found the perfect home for it on the tea table in the girlies’ room.  We’ve begun slowly decorating it with knick-knacks and homemade ornaments.  And (more evidence that the Big Man from the North had something to do with all this Christmas goodness), two consecutive doors in the advent house revealed supplies to make angel ornaments!  Who else would have known but the Big Man himself? 

 

There are also child-sized, unbreakable versions of Christmas favorites throughout my house.  I fell in love with this children’s nativity set (seen here as arranged by BigGirl) from Bombay Kids, (R.I.P. Bombay Company & Bombay Kids. You are missed...)

 

 

 

 

 

 

… and this stuffed Hallmark Christmas tree with buttons for hanging felt ornament sets.  (The ornament sets came with little board books telling holiday stories, too!  Even better!) 

 

  And, this year, our traditions have even been enhanced by the blogosphere!  Thanks to Elsie Marley, the girlies and I are making advent coloring books, one day at a time.  Well, BigGirl wants to compile her art into a collection.  BabyGirl wants to hang hers on the wall over her bed.  (I think I’m going to hang a string and clip them, a la clothesline, as we go.)  It’s amazing how much fun it has been…just simple paper and crayons!  And, it’s free!

 

In the words of Maria from The Sound of Music, “These are a few of my favorite things.”

What are some of your favorite children’s Christmas traditions?