Respect my lack of authority

While stuck in ridiculous traffic yesterday I jokingly asked Anna, "why won't this car get out of my way Anna?" Her answer: "Don't ask me, I'm not in charge."

If only she'd remember that a little more often.

Decision

It is midnight and the whole house is asleep. I have everything ready for tomorrow and I'm finally getting to bed. I tiptoe up the stairs so as not to wake the girls and quietly brush my teeth and climb into bed, mindful of the squeaks. I straighten out the blankets, check the alarm clock and settle back into my new memory foam pillow. I listen one last time for any stray footsteps in the hall, then finally exhale in the dark and roll onto my side, settling in for sleep.

Twelve seconds later Rachel's door opens and she silently pads to my side of the bed. I smell the lavender scent of her post-bath lotion and see that she's sucking her thumb with the same hand that clutches her blankey. She tries to climb up into my bed but her foot slips and so she holds her hand out to me for help. Our faces are only inches apart in the dark and I can see those huge dark eyes staring at me.

Get up, the responsible-mother-voice in my head nudges me. Get up and put her back in her own bed. You were just complaining to the entire blogosphere about kids in your bed, do what you need to do.

But I'm so comfortable right now, I whine back (yes, at myself). So comfortable and so warm! And look at that face, so sweet. Can you smell that lotion? Besides, she is so snuggly!

Rachel bats her eyelashes one more time and my hand reaches out to hers. Behind her blankey I see that familiar smile and I drown out the responsible-mother-voice as I breathe in the scent of her hair. Because in the end, around here at least, snuggly wins pretty much every time.

Memories of slumbers past

I remember when I used to love my bed. Dan and I bought it when we moved in together and at the time it seemed so luxurious, so big, so cozy. We picked out the queen-sized double-pillow-top mattress and box spring together, taking our time to choose the perfect set. We invested in the extra mattress pad and Dan bought us super soft new sheets. It was our martial bed and we spent many happy hours together enjoying its comfort.

If the tone of that previous paragraph is a tad nostalgic it is because lately I have been feeling wistful for those days. Because while that very bed is still in our room and still covered with those sheets, it has lost its proverbial shine. We got married. We got bigger. We had children. And now our precious island of sanity becomes a mini refugee camp in the wee hours of every morning. Two adults, two children and usually a cat, snoring, sucking thumbs, purring. When Rachel feels crowded she announces that she's "too tight" and flips over, placing her feet in our faces. Anna's elbows happen to be the approximate sharpness of a carving knife and she is not afraid to use them to get a little space. And for some reason I am often the only resident of this odd nest who finds the environment a difficult one in which to sleep.

Luckily the children don't start arriving until after midnight - usually around 3 am - so I have a few hours to enjoy the bed every night and reminisce about the old days. And fantasize about a king sized mattress.

The title of Rachel's future autobiography

Rachel just announced, "I'm beautiful because I'm bad."

Four

I find myself completely stunned to be the mother of a four-year-old. It's been four whole years since I closed my eyes in that operating room and listened in an exhausted semi-conscious state for my baby's cry. Four years since I first heard the whinnying cry I compared to a baby piglet.

Last night Dan and I were looking at pictures of little baby Anna, reminiscing about her bald head and serious face and curious eyes. Remembering what a total nightmare she was to feed those first few months and how surprised we were that two dark-haired, dark-eyed parents produced this incredible blue-eyed, redheaded porcelain doll.

Needless to say, the surprises haven't stopped. Every single day this exquisite, infinitely complicated creature makes me pause, blink, take a breath, smile. Anna likes to ask me why I was given two girls. And my answer is that I got the children I was supposed to have.

Indeed.


Happy birthday Muffin.

Fear of aging

Last night I was getting Rachel excited for her birthday. "You're going to be THREE," I reminded her. She responded with similar delight. "YEEEEAAAAYYYY I going to be three!" Then suddenly she looked worried. She became serious as she looked into my eyes to voice her concern. "Can I still be Rachel?"

Oh sweetness. You couldn't be anything else.


Happy birthday Dumpling.

At least I won't be able to say I wasn't warned

Me: Anna, why did you draw your name and pictures all over your arms and legs with purple marker?

Anna: I never saw anyone do that before.

Me: Is that a good thing to do or a naughty thing to do?

Anna: Naughty.

Me: So are you going to do that again?

Anna: Not today.