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.
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