Twinkly

Lou Boo is waking up. She's coming out of her shell and announcing to the world that she is officially here and ready to play. She's at the semi-cuddly, koala bear stage where all she wants to do is get a good pudger hold on my chin while two clear blue eyes absorb everything about the universe as it exists over my shoulder. And then squeal. And grin and flail and squeal some more. But oh those gorgeous little eyes, they smile. They smile and twinkle and tell me that they have a secret, a hilarious secret that she's never going to quite give up. They sparkle with excitement when she is standing, marching, climbing on my stomach. Because that is a simply fabulous thing to do! And when she realizes those light and magical sounds that ring through our house came from her little own self, those eyes glitter for all the world. But most of all they gleam when she is eating. In ecstasy, she pauses to let her strawberry lips lift those chubby cheeks into a cheshire grin. A very charming, sorta milky little smile. And her eyes joyfully whisper that she has discovered the secret to life: love and be loved, enjoy and be enjoyed. The feeding resumes but the eyes still shine. And I am quite content. Miss Baby....

Golden

Today we played in the leaves. An absolutely glorious sea of golden leaves that three majestic trees dumped there just for us. Those trees live in this little nook on the apartment complex property that Anne Shirley would have named something utterly whimsical because it is a hidden spacial treasure, walled in by fences on three sides and, on the fourth, both guarded and gated by a wall of trees that provide access through a small arching window in the brush. It has been our sanctuary this summer, will give us virgin snow to play in this winter, and I anticipate a pink fairyland this coming spring. But today it gave us an ocean of fallen leaves to crunch.
And crunch them we did: chuuh, chuuh, chuh. We practically waded through them! Curly Sue gathered a hat full, with delicate brown veins so perfect they might have been printed on weathered cardstock. Little Lou full asleep on my shoulder soaking in the honey mellow autumn light. Then I watched my bearded hubby splash through the leaves toward home with a toddler on his shoulders, waving orange maple flags. And once again, I was happy.

Flowers and stars

I still have a shirt that was a hand-me-down from my cousin way back in the fourth grade. It's a cream and blue henley with a very dainty little flower/star pattern that in my mind will never be out of style. I still wear it now and again, and I wore it today. And after today I think I'll wear it a little more often because every time I do it will remind me of what happened this afternoon as I put Curly Sue down for a nap.
We had just finished our book and were talking about the girl and the cat and the party in our story when suddenly her little eyes stared so importantly up into mine and she said: "Flowers and stars."
Huh? There are no flower or stars in that book. But again she said: "Flowers and stars. Yots of them....see, mommy? one star two stars, tree stars......blue flower, blue flower, blue flower---pink flower just for me!"
Her little mind had soaked in the tiny detail of my shirt. And she found it worth wondering at, talking about, and to tell the truth, improving (because the sad fact is, there are no pink flowers on this shirt....as of yet). It reminded of me of how the world became brand new when we had her. Colors, sounds, textures, concepts, the most mundane and basic details became refreshing, exciting and fascinating because she finds them so. And also, I suppose, because in truth they really are. It's the small things that make the big things, the sand that makes the beach. In my heart I always knew it but I needed a child to remind me. So we together we celebrated flowers and stars and blue and pink. Then I tucked her in and kissed her cheek. She was falling asleep, and I had fallen in love with her all over again.

Apple Snack

I think we have a new favorite snack: Apples, smeared with peanut butter and dipped in sprinkles. Three bowls, each sitting on its own square of tile. Curly Sue and I sat on the kitchen floor and munched our snack during Lou's morning nap. And talked about "our" dragons. Her's is pink, of course. And mine is purple. My dragon, as you might have guessed, is her dragon's mama. And tomorrow we're going to ride them high in the sky---whoosh. And eat more "apple snack.....with 'prinkgos". I could have sat there with our heels crossed and our backs against the white cabinets, talking about dragons all day long.

Hello, Old Friend

Little Lou was sick last night. And today. Things are looking up tonight and I'm so glad because I hate when my babies are sick. Especially my baby babies. It's the saddest thing in the world to see that troubled, pudgy face just begging me to make it better. But I can't. So I hold her, and love her. And sing and nurse and we wait together. Until, finally, her miraculous little body works it out, whatever it is that made her so stuffy and downright uncomfortable.
This morning, as I was trying to feed the poor thing, and it wasn't going very well....my mind drifted back to the time I spent recovering in the hospital after she was born. I was having trouble settling down for a nap. Apparently I always get like that when my babes are new, just amazingly over-charged. My mind was so full of nothing and everything at once that I couldn't make it shut up. It just kept buzzing. I looked over at my tiny companion in her bassinet. Sleeping soundly, exhausted from the effort of her debut into the world. And although she was so brand spanking new she barely even had a name, to me she felt as welcoming as an old friend. The kind you will always love just because you simply do. I picked her up and put her in the bed with me. And she brought with her that cozy old familiarity. Then, basking in its warmth, I fell asleep.

Sugared Strawberries

When I was a kid the family across the street had a girl about my age and we were good friends. We used to play this game where we would close our eyes and just breathe....then we'd tell each other what the smells we inhaled made us think of. My favorite place to play the game was just inside her front door; it smelled the way that Easter yellow would smell if colors had a scent.
The game became a habit for me and I've played it ever since. I played it as soon as I got off the plane when I went to Hawaii. It smelled just like flowers, and peace. I play it now when we visit museums, when I get on the train, when I turn down new streets. And I play it on the sly when I'm with people I love. With my Grandpa, who smells like leather and oil. My brother, who smells just like a new magazine. Every person has a fragrance, absolutely unique to them. And when I smell their scent, it's like having them with me no matter how far apart we are.
My three favorite scents the game has shown me are the ones I get to smell everyday. My husband, who smells like a soft, gray-green blanket, the kind I want wrapped around me when I snuggle up with a book on a rainy day. Little Lou, who smells fresh and sweet, like any baby should. And Curly Sue. When she sits in my lap or snuggles me at bed time, I close my eyes and breathe in. All I can see is sugared strawberries in a blue bowl. And a little bit of sunshine. And I can't help but smile.

Dear Me.....

A note to myself in a moment of madness.....

Dear Me,

It's time to just take a deep breath. Calm down, relax, and breathe. There are moments when chaos is acceptable. Don't worry that the house is a disaster, that breakfast is currently just a puddle of pancake batter mixed with all your laundry quarters on the kitchen floor, that its ten o'clock and your 0 for 3 getting anybody ready for the day. That there is an entire whiny soundtrack accompanying the scene. Or that the baby has eaten pretty much continuously for the past 24 hours and shows no sign of slowing down. The house will not disintegrate under the clutter, no one will starve and there is still plenty of time to get dressed.

If you need to, put the girls somewhere secure while you shut yourself in the bathroom for a two-minute tantrum of your own. Go ahead, jump up and down, flail on the floor, whatever you need to do. Then come out and embrace it. Dance in your pajamas. Be silly with them. Make them laugh, and let them make you laugh. Live in this moment, for it surely will pass. Speak gently, teach patiently, love tenderly. Because I promise you this, whether flavored as a sludgy nightmare or a cotton-candy daydream, today is only happening once.

Love,
Yourself