A little mother-daughter bonding

It has been a long, busy weekend. A lot of errands, new people, animals and heat. Anna is tired. She is stretched on the couch watching her current favorite movie and trying her best not to suck her thumb. I gaze at her newest freckles and the legs that seem to have grown since this morning.

"Hey Anna, guess what?"
"What?"
"I love you."
"That's not exciting."

I am not entirely sure she's mine

Last night I baked snickerdoodles. I allowed myself a moment to be the cool mom by bringing a plate of them outside to treat the neighborhood kids who were playing with Anna. I'm not going to lie, I completely reveled in the "ooohs" and "aaahs" as they gathered around to thank me and praise my baking skills. But I digress.

Today after lunch I allowed the girls to each take a cookie out of the jar and a few minutes later Anna came over to me and explained that she was finished - and then she handed me half a snickerdoodle. "I'm full," she told me. Too full for half a cookie? Half of a soft, delicious, cinnamon-coated treat? I don't think I've ever thrown away half a cookie. In fact I've been known on more than one occasion to complain of how stuffed I am while polishing off dessert.

I stared at the cookie piece sitting in my palm, wondering if this child is seriously mine. And then Rachel wandered along and plucked it out of my hand, shoving it into her mouth before she was even done chewing the first one. Now THAT is my child.

Snapshots

One of my favorite bloggers The New Girl posted recently about the snapshots strangers get of our kids on any given day. It's a great post (go read it!) and maybe I am just way self-centered but it made me think about the snapshots those same strangers get of my parenting.

I am proud to have kids who are usually quite well-behaved in public. I like to think that most of that can be chalked up to good parenting but I know they also love a spotlight. Their red hair and bright smiles, coupled with the fact that they look so much like twins garners them a lot of attention. As soon as anyone so much as smiles at her Anna usually launches into her routine, introducing herself and her sister and bragging about whatever is going on in her little life. Rachel smiles and bats her eyelashes at the bakery for free cookies. I love being the mom with the sweet little girls who dutifully hold on to the cart as we cross the parking lot. I enjoy giving the impression that I've got it all together.

A few weeks ago a good friend did me a huge favor and took me grocery shopping. I had no car at my disposal that day and this friend packed up her own four-year-old daughter and accompanied me and the girls to the store. I had a list and a budget and I figured it would be a pretty quick trip. Until we got the grocery carts. My girls are huge fans of the carts where they can sit in the "car" next to each other and "drive." But with the friend came the inevitable fight over who got to sit next to her. Two seats, three girls, lots of screaming. They agreed to take turns but both girls wanted to be first and nothing in my rather large and well-stocked purse would bribe them into submission. So much noise, so many witnesses. I finally decided that if they were going to scream, they could do so while I shopped. I took off down one aisle with one loud and unhappy child only to suddenly realize that my favorite store's remodeling project had apparently hit a new stage and nothing was where it used to be. Anxiety hit as the the one child who was happy started to yell at me for something and I started to sweat. This is so not the impression I enjoy giving the neighborhood grocery store. I want to be the calm, happy, proud mother, not the frazzled, sweaty, sniping mess.

But of course I am both of those women. Just as I occasionally wonder if my girls have multiple personalities I know that I am just as changeable. And when I can manage to remain calm and happy I am just as proud of myself as I am of my children. Of course good planning can help too - which is why I will never again approach grocery cart seating without a strategy.

Take Us Back In Time Tuesday

Because I am a sucker for photos of all kinds, especially photos of my children, especially especially photos of my children when they were tiny, I decided to participate in Take Us Back In Time Tuesday, a project started by It's a Schmitty Life.

So without further ado, here is my first Take Us Back In Time Tuesday (TUBITT?) post:



This photo was taken six days after Rachel came home from the hospital. Which was also nine days before Anna turned one. Anna took one look at her new little sister and decided that it was the coolest doll we'd ever bought her. She had this inexplicable need to constantly have Rachel in her line of sight, to touch her and babble to her and to try to share her toys. We'd find Rachel in the swing with a pile of offerings sitting at her feet, placed there by a big sister who instantly loved her unconditionally.

In this photo Anna is standing on the little shelf on the bottom of the bassinet to get a better view of Rachel. I remember constantly scolding Anna to get down but nothing would keep her from checking on her baby sister.

If you want to participate in TUBITT (hee) - and you totally should - the participation rules are here and the Mr. Linky link can be found here.

I just have no idea

You know those big metal tins that Tinkertoys used to come in? Like this?



Well we found something similar in our basement, filled with some old wooden blocks from my husband's childhood. The girls both liked the blocks, but Rachel really loved the tin. She did some expected things with it - marched around beating the bottom like a drum, put it over her head, filled it with various and assorted random items.

And then she did something I did not expect. She set a big pink ball in it so that the top half of the ball was poking out of the tin. Then she put a pink head band on the ball and called the whole thing her baby. She carried it around and told us all about her baby. She gave her baby kisses and a blanket. Then she announced, "She's stupid. My baby is stupid." She said it with a smile and then went on hugging it.

Dan and I looked at each other, speechless. I guess that's another game we're hoping doesn't come up at school.

Security

When Rachel was nine months old she used her brand new crawling skills to reach a stack of clean blankets I had folded and placed on a chair. She pulled them down one at a time, examining each one closely, running it through her fingers and touching it to her face. When she had thoroughly experienced the blanket, she tossed it aside and reached for the next one. She continued this process until she reached the plainest, least embellished blanket we had, a gift she had received from a family friend. A simple purple crocheted number with no pictures, ribbons or special features. When she got to this one she stuck her thumb in her mouth and proceeded to roll around on the floor until she was wrapped up in the purple blanket. Dan turned to me and said, "I guess Rachel has a blankey." Indeed.

[Photo taken January 2007 when Rachel was about 14 months old. Oh man do I miss her being that small.]

This was unfamiliar territory for us because Anna never had a security item other than her thumb. But from the moment she chose that blanket she had to have it at all times. She had a very specific routine with it, as seen above. She would clutch a corner of the blanket in her right hand while she sucked her right thumb. With her left hand she felt along the wavy edges and sometimes stuck her fingers through the crochet holes. Sometimes I'd play a game with her and find the other corners and show them to her. She'd smile behind the thumb and gather all the corners together in her hand.

And when she was really feeling affectionate, when she really wanted to show some love, she would hold out a part of the blanket and rub it against my cheek. It would absolutely melt my heart.

This was all well and good until Rachel started walking. She waited until she was 15 months old to do so but when it finally happened she dragged the blankey everywhere. At which point my mother the crocheting master decided to recreate the blankey in smaller form. This project was completed in the summer of 2007 and when it was presented to her I cautiously explained that the original blankey would now stay in her bed while this new one would be the one she could carry around. I held my breath, waiting for what was surely to be some form of resistance. She inspected it, sucked her thumb with it, felt along the edges and I swear she almost shrugged. Not a single complaint came forth from her sweet face. She even found some new ways to enjoy blankey.



The ease of the transition stunned everyone. It was the first time I remember clearly thinking to myself that this child was very different from her sister.

Anna offended

The girls have seen a few new movies lately. Today we screened Coraline and I have never seen Rachel so enthralled by a film on the first viewing. She sat in her favorite spot on the couch and would not be distracted, even insisting on watching the credits. She talked about it on and off for the rest of the day and even asked to watch it again later.

Then came bedtime. As I tucked Rachel in she told me she hoped she wouldn't dream about "that other Mommy who turns mean." I reminded her of the happy ending and tried to turn the conversation to lighter fare, such as a planned trip the park tomorrow. She smiled and snuggled into her covers.

Half an hour later Rachel is in tears and says she's scared but doesn't know why. I'm still hoping to avoid her presence in my bed tonight so I agree to lay down with her in her bed. I settle in and dry Rachel's tears, memories of childhood nightmares flashing in my mind. After a few minutes of silence we hear an exasperated sigh from Anna's side of the room. "Rachel. You do not need Mommy. You have ME."