Sunday, December 12, 2010
Silent Night
The twinkle lights are shining a gentle rainbow of spotlights on three little nativity scenes on the mantle. The tree is guarding a nest of presents, dressed in white and red and green, cradling a baby "Jesus" swaddled in cream pillow cases. I can hear Curly Sue gently crooning out her version of "Angels We Have Heard On High" in the girls room where she and her sister lie, two little souls are snuggled and bundled. Christmas is glowing softly in my heart.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Again
Remember the day with terrible children and the miserable mother and the quarters in the pancake batter and the time outs all around? We're back there. Again. Back to the stress and the screeching and the tight, stiff feelings. And the faces like anguished drama masks. The girls are evil geniuses today. Each makes the other their target. They had an amazing knock down drag out fight within the confines of their double stroller. Criminal contortionist kind of stuff. Right down Main Street. In the pouring rain. Pouring. Rain. I caught a beautician gawking at us through the window....her jaw dropped right down to her collarbone.
They got frog marched straight to their beds as soon as we got home. And I stormed around, putting shoes away and threatening impending doom should I hear as much as one whisper of naughtiness.
I heard a giggle. Then two. I was swooping in to.....I don't know what. Transform into a beast, I suppose, when I got pulled up short. They were in there, demons gone, children back. Making a nest out of all their pillows with a stack of books waiting on the edge of the bed. My mind flashed on the Wicked Witch of the West I'd just met in the hall mirror. Didn't like it one little bit. I'm in time out, again.
In time out to remember, again, the guidance I was granted sitting next to the pancake batter puddle with twenty-five cent lilly-pads: Love them. It came to me softly like breeze slipping through white linen. Simply love them. That's the alpha and omega, the beginning and the end of what I aim to do as their mother. Everything else will grow out of that. Love them, feed them. Love them, clothe them. Love them, teach them. Love them, tell them. Love them, laugh with them. Love them, correct them. Love them, play with them. Love them, listen to them. Love them, hold them. Love them, guide them.
There are days when I remember. When I hold those two words in the center of my mind and they help me relax. Release. Like the breathing in yoga helps me stretch. And be strong. Things flow smoother on those days. Today, I was forgetting. So I gave myself a time out. And, will probably need several more at several other dates. Until, hopefully, I finally remember forever. But today, I'll settle for remembering, again.
They got frog marched straight to their beds as soon as we got home. And I stormed around, putting shoes away and threatening impending doom should I hear as much as one whisper of naughtiness.
I heard a giggle. Then two. I was swooping in to.....I don't know what. Transform into a beast, I suppose, when I got pulled up short. They were in there, demons gone, children back. Making a nest out of all their pillows with a stack of books waiting on the edge of the bed. My mind flashed on the Wicked Witch of the West I'd just met in the hall mirror. Didn't like it one little bit. I'm in time out, again.
In time out to remember, again, the guidance I was granted sitting next to the pancake batter puddle with twenty-five cent lilly-pads: Love them. It came to me softly like breeze slipping through white linen. Simply love them. That's the alpha and omega, the beginning and the end of what I aim to do as their mother. Everything else will grow out of that. Love them, feed them. Love them, clothe them. Love them, teach them. Love them, tell them. Love them, laugh with them. Love them, correct them. Love them, play with them. Love them, listen to them. Love them, hold them. Love them, guide them.
There are days when I remember. When I hold those two words in the center of my mind and they help me relax. Release. Like the breathing in yoga helps me stretch. And be strong. Things flow smoother on those days. Today, I was forgetting. So I gave myself a time out. And, will probably need several more at several other dates. Until, hopefully, I finally remember forever. But today, I'll settle for remembering, again.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
I'm Their Guest....
Remember way back when I promised to share my tips and tricks? Well, I finally did! Check out my thoughts on working with your littles in my guest spot on Bloom. Thanks for having me Anne and Emily!
Monday, September 20, 2010
Weekend Ritual
There is a Daddy in this house. He has two little girls. He loves them. They pretty much think he is it. Saturday morning I came out in the living room and there they were, snuggled in the blanket. Him in the middle, a chipmunk on each side. Still in pajamas, all three. Pink hedgehogs and purple red-riding hoods and blue plaid. Observing the time-honored Saturday morning tradition......cartoons. Did you remember? I sort of forgot. That's why there's a Daddy in this house. 'Cause there they were rosy and giggling and warm. And completely unaware of to-do lists or chores. Just enjoying Daddy and Pablo, and Tasha, and Tyrone. And now I remember. That sooo happy feeling of an empty day completely full with the simple promise of Dad. And cartoons. And cold cereal. And pajamas till....never. They do it every weekend. I sleep in. Next weekend, I'm gonna sleep in again. But this weekend, when I stumbled in, it was like standing outside a window in the snow, watching a family start in under a fully loaded Christmas tree. And having every confidence they would welcome you. It made me feel cozy. Like he always does. So glad there's a Daddy in this house.
Silhouette
The other day out at the swing set the sun treated me to a silhouette of myself pushing the girls higher and higher. There I was larger than life, taller than tall. My arms, stretched like tree limbs, caught and released two little bodies on aerial seats. I love the fine detail of a shadow. It gave me lace from the leaves above. It outlined every errant hair blowing in the wind. It reminded me with graceful loops and a tiny heart suspended above my head that I was in fact still wearing the crown from playing princesses with Sue while we rounded up shoes and socks. There was my happy projected in the black. I smiled and kept the crown on. And we kept on playing. Happy me. Happy girls. Happy us. Happy sun. Happy day.
Friday, July 16, 2010
A letter to Little B
Dear Bazooka Jane,
The other day at Aldi you made the assumption that all other customers were there to see you (and by the end of the trip they were ). You announced your self and your shiny shoes and told everyone you are two. Except you're not. Yet. But it made me think. About you and the bursting little life inside you. All smiles and eyelashes and fearless joy. And the places they will take you. It made me think about the pieces of your little personality. And the enormous strength you already have.
Every time I take you to the beach you make a frank and furious bee line for the water. With you there is no pausing to test the temperature of the cold Atlantic blue one toe at a time. You just plow right in, as deep as you can go, until someone saves you from yourself or a wave knocks you flat. At which point, you will only laugh, pick your little self up and head right back in with an even bigger grin. Sweet thing, you terrify your mother. But I have to confess, there is a part of me that loves this. Not the idea that you have no sense of danger, so much. But the idea of living without fear, of seeking life and adventure with insatiable zest and gusto. Don't lose that. Temper it with some sense, if you please, but keep it alive if you can.
You and I each measure our will against the other, mine to keep you breathing oxygen, yours to discover what it means to be a fish. Most often the only compromise we can find is to waltz across the wet sand. You in my arms and the wind in our hair. One, two-three, slow, quick-quick. Tide washing over my feet and your sister contentedly gathering every pink rock on the beach behind our swirling resolution. I love this part. Every piece of it from the blue horizon to the gray rocks marking the perimeter. The smell, the breeze, the gentle sounds, and the cool spray on my legs. And my girl laughing with her eyes. I love it. Keep this part too. Keep your will and your drive and your ability to yield too. And never forget how to let someone sweep you off your feet and waltz, two-three, slow, quick-quick, into the breeze.
I love you, Crazy. Love,
Mama
The other day at Aldi you made the assumption that all other customers were there to see you (and by the end of the trip they were ). You announced your self and your shiny shoes and told everyone you are two. Except you're not. Yet. But it made me think. About you and the bursting little life inside you. All smiles and eyelashes and fearless joy. And the places they will take you. It made me think about the pieces of your little personality. And the enormous strength you already have.
Every time I take you to the beach you make a frank and furious bee line for the water. With you there is no pausing to test the temperature of the cold Atlantic blue one toe at a time. You just plow right in, as deep as you can go, until someone saves you from yourself or a wave knocks you flat. At which point, you will only laugh, pick your little self up and head right back in with an even bigger grin. Sweet thing, you terrify your mother. But I have to confess, there is a part of me that loves this. Not the idea that you have no sense of danger, so much. But the idea of living without fear, of seeking life and adventure with insatiable zest and gusto. Don't lose that. Temper it with some sense, if you please, but keep it alive if you can.
You and I each measure our will against the other, mine to keep you breathing oxygen, yours to discover what it means to be a fish. Most often the only compromise we can find is to waltz across the wet sand. You in my arms and the wind in our hair. One, two-three, slow, quick-quick. Tide washing over my feet and your sister contentedly gathering every pink rock on the beach behind our swirling resolution. I love this part. Every piece of it from the blue horizon to the gray rocks marking the perimeter. The smell, the breeze, the gentle sounds, and the cool spray on my legs. And my girl laughing with her eyes. I love it. Keep this part too. Keep your will and your drive and your ability to yield too. And never forget how to let someone sweep you off your feet and waltz, two-three, slow, quick-quick, into the breeze.
I love you, Crazy. Love,
Mama
Sneetches
I was in the kitchen getting dinner settled and a little laundry folded fresh and warm from the dryer. The girls were splashing in the tub with their Daddy standing guard. Our new house features a much deeper tub than our old one could boast and the splashing possibilities here are primo. I heard plenty of giggles and swim-itty sounds. Then when I entered the bathroom with towels in hand I caught the tail end of the game:
"Stand up Sweetie!" the Monkey would call, and up the little one would burst, water streaming off her like an ocean fleeing a new formed volcanic peak. Then promptly a bright colored foam letter was firmly placed over Lil' Blue's navel, an orange "X" marking the spot, or a green "A". She ever so proudly displayed her new belly adornment to the audience like one of Suess' Sneetches fresh out of the magic machine with spanking new "stars upon thars". Then crash, she plummets to the white porcelain floor and the water steals her new sophistication in one smooth swipe. The "X" floats off behind a pink rubber duck and the "A" sinks slowly to the bottom. Never mind, there are more: "Stand up, Sweetie!"......
"Stand up Sweetie!" the Monkey would call, and up the little one would burst, water streaming off her like an ocean fleeing a new formed volcanic peak. Then promptly a bright colored foam letter was firmly placed over Lil' Blue's navel, an orange "X" marking the spot, or a green "A". She ever so proudly displayed her new belly adornment to the audience like one of Suess' Sneetches fresh out of the magic machine with spanking new "stars upon thars". Then crash, she plummets to the white porcelain floor and the water steals her new sophistication in one smooth swipe. The "X" floats off behind a pink rubber duck and the "A" sinks slowly to the bottom. Never mind, there are more: "Stand up, Sweetie!"......
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