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.