Just us against the world. Day 3.

Things I learned from day 3 without VWH:

I can survive two days as a single mother tolerably, but three is a stretch.  Yesterday I napped for two hours in the morning with James, and dozed with him for another hour in the afternoon.  I was still so out of it that I went to bed at 9PM, didn’t even hear VWH come in around 11, and slept until the boys woke me up at 7 this morning. 

Apparently one of our neighbors mows his entire lawn with a weed whacker.  That thing was on continuously for over two hours...during nap time.

I don't care if your lawn is green and mowed.  You kept me awake.

A change of scenery can do wonders for passing time and keeping James distracted.  Many thanks to Uncle Paul and Aunt Joy for letting us crash their living room for a few hours.  (And for sharing their grandson’s awesome toys with James.) 

 

Seeing your unshaven, weary husband after 3 days is the most glorious sight ever.  And James was every bit as excited.

OK.  Maybe he didn't look that bad.

It didn't matter to James.

VWH was kind enough to give James his evening bath tonight.  James’ hair smells much more shampooey after Daddy washes it.  I wonder if Daddy rinses.

 

I would write more, but I’m still too tired.  Three days survived.  To celebrate, I will welcome a one-year old today for 4 hours to double the fun.  Weekend, weekend, wherefore art thou?

 

Just us against the world. Day 2, Pt 2.

I use nap time to do laundry, shower, and get ready for today’s outing.  VWH is doing well in his out-of-state location, although his hotel didn’t have a breakfast, or WIFI.  He did get to watch the aforementioned NFL game though, and agrees with Mike and Mike.  The officials are stinking the place up.  I ignorantly and indignantly agree.

11:45 am.  James awakes.  Long nap!  Those who are praying for this little guy to give his mommy breaks are being heard.  He is happy and giggly as I dress him for the day.  He is so stinking cute.  Those of you who say that baby boys don’t get cute clothes like girls, read ‘em and weep:

Thanks to Aunt Kylie for the sweet vest.

12:00 pm.  Lunch for James.  I, who have been hungry since 11, have to wait a little bit longer since I’m meeting a former co-worker for lunch at 1.  James eats green beans without a fuss!  It’s fun to watch him recognize things now, like when I hold up a banana and he hoots and hollers like it’s Christmas morning. 

12:30 pm.  We depart for town.  I somehow get my growing child balanced in one arm and a box full of 150 newsletters in the other at the post office.  I drop the newsletters off and pray that the nice postal worker lady who told me the other day that they “probably wouldn’t have a problem with just one stamp” is working today.  I never want to see one of those newsletters again.  At least until December, when the next issue gets underway...

1:00 pm.  James and I pull into Jitters for my lunch.  Great Scott!  Jitters is now carrying a salted caramel latte!  My Starbucks-employed friend got me hooked on the darn things a few weeks ago and I’m thrilled to see that I can buy one for $2 cheaper at Jitters.  It’s really good too.  I enjoy my latte and great conversation with Michele, a co-worker from my office days.  She is a mom of young kids and is one of the few friends I have who is not single and younger than me.  I am encouraged by her testimony and honesty, and pray that I might be able to brighten her day a bit as well.  James contents himself with dropping his toys and chewing on my water bottle.  I wonder how much longer of a window I have when I can take him out in public without disrupting the general populace?

2:15 pm.  We return home and resume play.  The latte hits me and I crank up one of James’ favorite tunes, Point of Grace’s “You are the Answer.”  I don’t quite know how this ended up on his playlist, but he bounces and has some good head-bangin’ fun.  So we play it and bounce and bob along with him.  I took a few snapshots of playtime this afternoon, since describing it probably isn’t as interesting, and definitely not as adorable.

Hey!  A camera!

Climbing Dad's trumpet case to try to get on the chair.

Laundry basket walker!

Want to do this all day!

Love these little toes.

OK Mom.  Stop it with the pictures already.

4:00 pm.  James goes down for a power nap and I catch up with VWH.  He is having a very eventful trip.  Maybe more to say about that later...

4:45 pm.  James is up again, but only in spirit.  His body doesn’t really wake up until 5:30.  We snuggle and keep things mellow as to not bring on the grumps.  I hear up some supper (leftover stir fry) and when James shows minimal interest I know he is sleepy...or it wasn’t great stir fry. 

6:00 pm.  Supper for James.  He does a good job eating with minimal mess-making.  Then we head for the bath.

6:15 pm.  Bath time is, once again, SO COOL.  Mom gets doused, James burns off any calories consumed at supper by kicking furiously and sending splashes across the bathroom floor.  He gets wrapped up in a nice cozy sleeper and we kill the remaining time before bed playing, dancing, and singing together.

7:15 pm.  Nigh’night James.  The kid who was so sleepy at 4:45 is now wide awake and not willing to go quietly.  I close the door and head downstairs to hear various unidentifiable noises that lead to one very identifiable sound.  THUMP plus WAAAAAAHHHHH!  Somebody took a tumble in his crib.  I don’t want to go up if I can help it.  He wails pathetically for 15 seconds and then starts talking to himself.  He’s fine.  He hums and chatters for another 5 minutes, then calms into gentle sighs.  And then, peace. 

The evening post-bedtime is filled with cross stitching and wonderful conversation with a dear friend.  I get to bed too late to post this blog.  This will have to suffice.  Day three recap still to come!

Just us against the world. Day 2, Pt. 1

The font of the day is “FangSong.”  This is in no way affiliated with anything having to do with vampires.

This made me laugh.

6:50 am.  After hearing James threaten to wake up completely twice in the past hour, I finally give in and roll out of bed.  The 8 hours have absolutely flown by.  I can’t remember a night that has passed so quickly.  He got up once at 2 am, but other than that slept pretty decently.  His best effort in a week.  Good job James Bear.

7:00 am.  Mike and Mike and breakfast.  (This is not to be confused with Mike and Ike for breakfast, which would just be disgusting.) 

Yes.

 

 

No.

James has peaches and oatmeal, although he seems far more interested in the microscopic bits of dried cheese left on his tray from last night.  I can barely see them but he is drawn to them like a moth to a flame.  (Note to self: no matter how tired you are, completely scrub the tray before bed.)  I eat shredded wheat (frosted this time) and grow indignant alongside Mike and Mike at the horrible officiating of the Monday Night Football game last night.  Granted, I didn’t see it, but it sounds pathetic.  Must quickly align myself with the growing majority.  Boo, officials, boo!

 

7:20 am.  Playtime in the living room.  James decides the staircase is more interesting.  Normally I let him climb them, but I decide it’s too early and set up our fancy blockade…two Rubbermaid bins full of baby clothes.  Unfortunately our staircase can’t accommodate a baby gate, so we have to improvise.  It looks terrible, but passes the test after James’ thorough examination.

8:25 am.  We call Grandma Davis to wish her a happy morning.  She doesn’t answer, which means she’s either on the phone with somebody else or in the shower.  We leave her a voicemail and James tries to eat the phone.  I count on hearing from her in the next 20 minutes. 

8:40 am.  Grandma calls back and we chat briefly.  James tries to eat the phone.

9:00 am.  After playing hard for two hours James hits the nap wall hard.  It’s like a switch some days, and today is one of them.  Unfortunately it hits simultaneously with VWH FaceTiming from his out-of-state location.  James looks at him sleepily for a few minutes and we attempt to catch up.  However, his Starbucks has a lousy signal and we have to settle for the phone, which wakes James up so that he can try to eat it.  

9:20 am.  Naptime for a James Bear.  Shower for Mommy.  Nothing too terribly exciting thus far today, but that’s just fine.

Just us against the world, pt. 2

11:25 am.  James wakes up and we end up talking in the nursery for 20 minutes.  He shows me how much he can bounce in his crib and I sit nearby and cheer him on.

12:00 pm.  Lunch!  Leftover football food for me.  (Homemade guacamole and chicken wing dip, using shredded wheat as chips.  Way healthier and, let’s be honest, the chip is only a vessel for the deliciousness you dip it in.  Might as well cut the salt and add a little fiber.)  James had banana, cheese, oatmeal, and sweet potatoes.  He ate a lot and relished every bite, smearing some in his hair for a mid-afternoon snack.

12:45 pm.  I attempt to fold laundry and James discovers using an upside-down laundry basket as a walker.  This quickly becomes his all-time favorite thing EVER, as you can see.  

 However, what the camera only hints at is that each time he pushed it into an obstacle he suffered a complete and utter meltdown.  I’m not used to this…James rarely really cries unless he’s hurt.  Usually you hear a frustrated, “Unnnhhhh,” but that’s about it.  But for some reason getting the laundry basket stuck equals the end of the world.  This goes on for a while until I finally hide the basket in the laundry room and shut the door.

1:15 pm.  Piano practicing.  In an attempt to distract James from the torture of the stuck laundry basket, we play some songs together.  I show him where middle C is and he practices playing it with a perfect right index finger.  I attempt some songs around his zone in the middle with mixed success.  He eventually gets down and cleans off a shelf of books next to the piano.  This is inevitable and I’m quite surprised it takes 7 full hours of consciousness for him to realize that he hasn’t checked it off his list.

1:30 pm.  James summits the staircase and heads for the bathroom.  I follow close behind, knowing that as long as he has his binky nothing too germy can enter his mouth.  He climbs the toilet and alternates between pounding the top of it and exploring the flush handle.  Once he figures out that pulling the handle can yield various amounts of sound he redirects all energy towards the ultimate achievement.  It takes a few minutes but he finally flushes the toilet.  (…yaaaayyyy…)  Flushed with triumph (ba-dum-SHH!), he happily moves over to the tub, making sure that all items on the ledge are pushed over into the tub.  When this task is complete he exits the bathroom, knowing that his work is finished.  I rescue him and wash his hands.  Boys are all the same.

1:45 pm.  James goes into his bouncer so I can finish folding the clothes.  I put some music on and he bounces sleepily, using Steven as a pillow.  I sense nap number 2 coming on and whisk him upstairs once the last pair of socks has been matched (only one leftover this time!).  A lovely rock and down he goes. 

I use this break to get dressed and ready for my evening rehearsal and catch up with VWH, who is in the throes of beginner lessons at school. 

3:30 pm.  James awakes and joins me in the kitchen for dinner prep.  He loves to help, so I give him metal mixing bowls to bang on and push around the floor as I steam, blend, poach, bake, and stir fry.  I start by making a few batches of green food for James this week: peas and beans.  He likes to celebrate the loud noise of the food processor.  I’m cooking for the babysitter too tonight so I can’t forage, which is probably what I’ll end up doing much of the next few days.  She is a good excuse to make real food.

5:30 pm.  After much play and cookery, James and I eat.  I have veggie and chicken stir fry with a brownie for dessert.  He eats peas, yogurt, banana, oatmeal, and cheese.  I’m very proud of the fact that he eats a large helping of peas without complaint.  This does not usually happen.  Good job James.

5:50 pm.  Bath Time for a James Bear.  The preceding sentence is a song that we sing as we get ready for the bath and he’s learned to get extremely excited when he hears it.  Tonight he bounces up and down so hard leaning over the tub that I’m afraid he’s going to bonk his chin.  Bath time is VERY fun tonight, with lots of kicking and splashing Mommy, who regrets getting changed earlier for rehearsal.  I must remember to tell the babysitter to watch her step if she goes in the bathroom.  I need one of those Caution Wet Floor signs.

6:25 pm.  James is bathed and pajamaed.  I am flying around trying to clean up some of his “work” by putting books on shelves and dishes in the sink.  I wonder aloud why I’m doing this…it never bothered me when I babysat if the house was a little messy.  And yet here I am, cleaning to impress my babysitter, who is one of my dearest friends from college, so she completely understands what a slob I can really be.  My mother I am becoming.

6:30 pm.  Megan is unsurprisingly prompt and I give James goodnight kisses.  As I head out the door I realize that the first day is essentially over.  Making music and then gladly embracing my pillow is all that remains. 

9:55 pm.  VWH texts to tell me he has safely arrived at his destination.  With a thankful heart I sign off for the night, happy to we all have survived day one.

 

10:05 pm.  James starts wailing from the nursery…

Just us against the world, pt. 1

I have been abandoned by my VWH.  For three days.  I’ve never been a fan of being separated from him, but before James three days alone meant Chinese food (or shrimp, which he is allergic to) and chick flicks and sprawling out over the entire bed.  I missed my husband dreadfully, but there were a few perks.  Three days with a teething, crawling, climbing 10 month old doesn’t mean rest and relaxation anymore.  Au contraire.  It means no breaks. 

So I’ve decided to document the highlights and lowlights of three days sans husband.  We’ll see if I survive.  I have few expectations of actually getting much done other than survive.  Don’t expect to read about housework getting done and makeup being applied.  The next few days will likely be spent mostly just trying to keep James from eating paperbacks and crud off the floor.

 

7:05 am.  VWH leaves amid hugs and prayers for safety.  We wave as he pulls out of the driveway, then eat breakfast and listen to Mike and Mike.  Mondays were really rough before I remembered about Mike and Mike.  James eats part of a bowl of oatmeal and prunes.  It’s not his best effort but this is probably because he had an extra nursing last night.

8:45 am.  James has slipped enough times in his explorations to indicate that it’s nap time.  He nurses and waves his free hand around per usual, exploring my face and hoodie for a few minutes before passing out.  I put him silently in his crib and pray for a nice long snooze…

9:05 am.  …because I want to grab at least a cat nap myself.  Teething equals fusses in the night and my stoic “just go to back to sleep” strategy melts away during these times.  My baby’s mouth hurts and he wants to snuggle his mommy.  So we do.  And I allow myself the luxury of drifting off for a few minutes myself.  I set the alarm for 9:55, but before it goes off…

9:50 am.  Knock knock knock!!  I wake up, thinking hard about who could possibly be at the door.  We never get unannounced visitors.  Probably UPS, in which case they’ll leave the package and go away.  Knock knock knock!!  Crap.  Maybe I should check to see who it is.  I glance in the mirror and ignore the fact that my hair is a frizzy mess, I’m in sweats, and am wearing my uber-thick glasses.  I peek out the front door from the top of the steps to find my visitors looking up at me and my heart drops.

That’s right ladies and germs.  Today, for the first time ever, I got Jehovah Witnessed.  When I was a child my mom could smell them coming and would get us upstairs, down low, and close the blinds.  I thought this was silly and maybe a little rude, until I saw our Christian neighbor across the street got stuck for 2 hours at the front door engaged in a debate while her preschool-aged children ran wild around her.  All of the sudden hiding seemed like the saner option.

No hiding from these suit-clad gentlemen though.  The first thought, no lie, that went through my head was, “Well, this should make a good blog.”  And, to their credit, they didn’t stay long.  They read to me from Psalms about the great destruction of the earth and asked if I went to church.  I said that I did and they were nice enough to pick up on the fact that I wasn’t exactly dressed for company.  The older gentleman (easily 80, sounded like he was from Yugoslavia) asked if they could come back at another time.  I politely declined and wished them a nice day.  They were sure to give me some literature about doomsday and the value of women before they headed out.  But that was it.  No protests, no dragging the conversation out.  I give those guys props.  I’m not convinced at all of the effectiveness of door-to-door evangelism in our culture, but they really didn’t sour my day.  They were pleasant, polite, and not bad to look at.  

10:31 am.  I’ve now recorded the first 4 hours of the first day without VWH.  There is no way I’ll be able to write this much all the time.  But prayers for a longish nap have been answered.  James is still quiet upstairs.

 

To be continued…

From the colors of fall to the fragrance of spring...

Perfection is…

·        Chai.

·        Chai on a cool, fall morning.

·        Chai on a cool, fall morning in a hoodie.

·        Chai on a cool, fall morning in a hoodie with a napping baby upstairs.

·        Chai on a cool, fall morning in a hoodie with a napping baby upstairs and the knowledge that you don’t have to go anywhere for the whole day.

·        Chai on a cool, fall morning in a hoodie with a napping baby upstairs and the knowledge that you don’t have to go anywhere for the whole day and also that there is football on.

James and VWH are excited for the first game of the season!  Unfortunately those smiles didn't last very long...

I could continue to lengthen that sentence and make you reread it over and over again, but I’ll be merciful.  Nevertheless, there are more aspects of perfection to share.  Things like…

·        Fresh, ripe avocadoes for homemade guacamole.

·        Actually feeling rested for the first time in a week.

·        The completion of the fall edition of the newsletter I edit.  Finished stamping and labeling last night and remember why I was ready to leave my office job a year ago.

·        Minimal dishes and laundry to wash.

·        Time to take a long, hot shower this morning.

·        The promise of reddening leaves and apple cider and hayrides and homemade soup.

The arrival of a new season is special.  I look forward to each new beginning and the changes in the weather.  Growing up, summer was my favorite.  No school, my birthday, long days outside, the odd sensation of trying to fall asleep at night with the sun still shining in your room.  When I was in college, I looked forward to spring in a new way, as the long Rochester winters became more tiresome as the months dragged by.  (There is only so much patience one can have for salt lines on their jeans, wet socks, and chapped faces.)  Spring brought color back into the world, and hope for the completion of a long school year.

And now we welcome autumn, glorious and robust.  More than any season in his young life, I look forward to introducing James to this time.  A time to soak in the precious remaining weeks of being outdoors, exploring new smells and tastes.  He will delight in crunching leaves and picking his first apple.  His little personality already takes great joy in exploring new things and learning, learning, learning!  As he experiences for the first time the delights of fall, I will be thankful once again for seeing the world in this fresh, new way—through the eyes of my child.

Playing peekaboo with Mom.  His overalls are basically the cutest things I've ever seen

James likes hoodies too

It's just so much nicer to snuggle when it's not 90 degrees in your livingroom

Happy birthday from me

Tomorrow we are going to a birthday party for James’ buddy, Alexa.  Alexa is turning one and I will get my first taste in quite some time of the hubbub that surrounds baby’s first birthday.  We received our very colorful, personalized invitation last week.  In two short months it will be my turn.  Or rather James’ turn.  Or maybe my turn…

It seems to me that mommies put way too much pressure on themselves to make their child’s first birthday an event to remember forever.  But I ask you: do any of you remember your first birthday?  I thought not.  I sure don’t.  There are lots of pictures of me and Mom unwrapping presents together and there was a “kitty cat” cake.  But I remember nothing.  In fact, I don’t remember any of my birthdays until I turned 5, when I got my first Barbie (now that was memorable).

I’ve witnessed and read tales of the first birthday party.  Of the obsessive planning that started months ahead of time.  Of the mom who wants her child’s face to light up in wonder at the candles and decorations and brightly-wrapped gifts.  Of the bookoos of dollars that went into custom invitations, themed decorations, bakery cupcakes, and favors for the guests.  And my initial reaction is, “My baby’s face lights up in wonder when I give him the diaper cream tube on the changing table.”

I have told myself that I won’t be one of those moms.  I won’t be the one who stresses and worries about every little thing.  I won’t spend our month’s grocery budget on fancy appetizers served on bright blue “Happy 1^st Birthday” plates.  (Which are really funny to watch grown ups carry around.)  Oh, James will have a get-together, but it will be a simple affair, centered on the popular party theme of frugality.  I will stay strong!

…and then I see this face…

And this one…

And this one…

 

And I think about the year we’ve had and all the milestones we’ve achieved.  Or James has achieved.  Or maybe we have achieved...  Nursing, sleeping through the night, smiling, rolling over, sitting up, eating solid food, pulling up to stand, cruising around furniture, climbing stairs, pulling books off the bookshelf, pulling a shelf off the bookshelf.  I think of the babies who never had a chance to get to their first birthday.  Of the incomparable blessing it is to live in a time where there is an abundance of healthy food and vaccinations and disposable diapers (hey…it’s true). 

All of the sudden, it sure seems like there’s a lot to celebrate.

So I did it.  I got online today.  I started looking at dates and at customized invitations.  I found a really cute one with a little bear on it.  It wasn’t as expensive as the ones where you can put your baby’s picture in it, but definitely more expensive than the ones you can pick up at The Party Store.  I started thinking about a little bear theme, since James D Bear would like that.  I jotted down an initial guest list and checked to make sure the Bills weren’t playing on the Sunday afternoon I earmarked as a possible date.  (Because that would nix the whole thing for half the guest list.)  I started imagining James eating his first cupcake.  Of our precious family and friends gathered together to celebrate his little life.  And my resolve went down the diaper pail.

More blogs to come on the birthday party.  But there will be one.  Yep.  There will.

A taste of reality

I love yoga.  I started doing it shortly before I was pregnant with James, and found prenatal yoga to be of huge benefit.  Returning to a power yoga routine after his birth shed the baby weight (and more) faster than I could have imagined.  (We’ll see if that holds true for any future babies…I won’t hold my breath.)  Since VWH was home for the summer, yoga fell by the wayside as we substituted long walks, playing in the backyard, and library and ice cream trips instead.  But now school is back in session and it’s time to resume the regular workout routine.  I aim to do yoga on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, with errand running and walks on the other days.  This way I’ll have a nice mix and in case I’m not always in the mood for yoga, I don’t have the pressure of doing it every day.  I’m so organized and motivated it makes me sick.

Today was the first day of the new regimen.  Back in the spring I would put James down for his morning nap, complete a 55 minute workout, shower, and still have a little time for housework or lunch.  His naps have been a bit sporadic lately, but he’s recently been sleeping for at least two hours in the morning, so I optimistically placed him, asleep, in his crib around 9:30 am, anticipating the fantastic feeling of a great yoga workout.

The first part of the DVD goes well.  I’m aware of more stiffness than usual, but that makes sense since I haven’t done intense stretching in a few months.  My arms are a little weaker, but that will come back.  Overall I’m pleased with where I’m at.  It takes a few minutes to get back into the clearness of mind and rhythmic breathing yoga demands, but I start to hit my stride.  “This is the life.”

Then life catches up with me.

Inhale, upward dog.  Exhale, downward dog…

The baby monitor: “Ehhh??  Meh?  Ba ba ba??”

Me: “Maybe he’ll go back to sleep.”

Sink into Warrior One, letting yourself turn into a long arch…

The monitor: “… … EhhhhHHH!”

Me: “Comon’ James.  You’ve barely been up there a half-hour.”

Press your right leg into the earth as you balance with your left leg pressed out…

Monitor: “Waaaahh?  AAAAANNHHH!”

Me: “OK.  He’s awake.  Maybe I can put him in his bouncer and he can watch and entertain himself.”

I go rescue James, who is stuck standing in his crib (he can stand up but hasn’t figured out how to sit back down yet), bring him downstairs quickly, hoping I’ll stay loose and warm, and put him in the bouncer.  He doesn’t like this but I turn the DVD back on so that he has an immediate distraction.

Let yourself rock back and forth with your legs crossed, grabbing your feet…

Me: I rock back and forth, saying “boo!” to James when I come up.

James: “Ha ha!?! …  Ahhhhh!!!”

Come into cobbler’s pose, pressing your thighs down…

James: “Ma ma ma ba ba bah!  WAAHHH!”

I come out of cobbler’s pose, pick James out of the bouncer and hope he’ll crawl around me and enjoy his freedom while giving me enough space to finish the final stretches. 

Enjoy the stretch of the seated forward bend…

James attempts to crawl over me as I’m bent in half.

Close your eyes and let go of all the tension in your face…

I can’t, because I’m eyeing James shuffling along the edge of the couch, looking for electronics to gnaw on.

Feel yourself drop into the earth…

James finds a remote on the couch and drops it on my head.

Once again, mentally scan your body from top to bottom, letting all of your worries and tensions melt away…

James comes and buries his head in my stomach.  It is clear he is finished with the whole yoga thing.  I take one last deep breath, turn the DVD player off, pick up my little boy for a snuggle, and hope that I reaped at least a partial benefit of the workout.  James grins at me happily, glad that I am finally done with my silly hippieness and ready to feed him some lunch.  He even babbles something like, “I’m thrilled I could be of assistance to you Mom.” 

Yes.  Thank you James.  Because of your help it’s 5 hours later and I’m still waiting for my shower. 

(He doesn’t seem to mind.)

Understanding Anne Shirley

Dear Blog,

How I have missed thee.  The summer has passed in a hurry, with many exciting accomplishments and memories made.  Unfortunately for you, it also kept me away from home a good bit and away from you.  I hope to do a better job this fall of updating you, although I make no guarantees.  James Bear is into everything, and the precious moments of that glorious time of day we call “nap” are all too quickly filled with other things.

A new twist this fall: I’m watching another baby once a week, which gives me a pretty accurate idea of what having twins must be like.  Her name is Alexa and she’s an absolute dolly.  She’s two months older than James, but, surprisingly, my 10% percentile-in-weight kid makes her look tiny.  This little peanut is just taking her first steps and James has picked up some new skills from watching her cruise around and stand on her own.

Unfortunately, Alexa doesn’t exactly love our house yet.  James has a pretty serious crush on her (or at least her binky), which means that he’s up in her grill constantly.  Like all women, Alexa is flattered by the attention, but still desires space, which she demands vociferously.  My sweet, gentle child doesn’t seem to understand this, and bowls into and over her with adoring love.

Last week I spent a good amount of time keeping them from having a wrestling match over James’ most cherished possession, Steven Bear.  Steven is a small, used-to-be-white bear that goes with James just about everywhere.  (It amazes me how quickly children can attach themselves to an inanimate object.)  I’m starting to think Steven may be a magic bear, because whenever he encounters another child, that child immediately looses all interest in the surroundings and only wants to hold the bear.  This is sweet, but a trial for James, who doesn’t want to always have to share his buddy.

So when a sniffly Alexa survived lunchtime and gazed around the room looking for something to snuggle in absence of her mommy, Steven fit the bill.  The next 45 minutes were spent watching Steven get wrenched from one set of arms to the other, with alternate cries of “Hey!  Give that back you fool!” emitting from the bearless baby.  It made for good entertainment and videos we can play at their wedding reception one day.

Still, after watching James stuff his entire face into Alexa’s snack bowl, and washing her sippy cup after he got a hold of it (only to come back into the living room to see her sucking contentedly on his binky), the arrival of naptime seemed a miraculous, almost sacred event.  Even more phenomenal when they actually both took naps at the same time!  As I tiptoed down the stairs, knowing that it wouldn’t do a lick of good (our stairs make more noise than our decrepit Dodge Neon), I listened for protests.  None.  5 minutes later, still silence. 

I should have washed dishes, started supper, folded laundry, answered emails, worked on the newsletter I edit, or chosen songs for Saturday’s worship service.  But I didn’t.  I felt old.  I sat down.  And fell asleep.  “They’re adorable and sweet and fun and I can do this once a week,” I thought, as I drifted off.  “But please God, don’t ever give me twins.”

 James Bear, Steven Bear, and the Chicka Chicka Boom Boom rattle.