My Faith and Joy… and Boys!

We went to our friends’ house on Saturday night, and the girls made themselves right at home. 

Becky (on left): “Sis, put down that frisbee and get to work.  We’re needed in the kitchen!”

Susie: “Matt, can you spoon me up some more of that chicken?  I’m starving here!”

Susie: “Ben, you’re such a messy eater.  I’ll help you clean up.” 

Susie: “Here…you missed a spot.”

Becky: “Hey guys – you wouldn’t be having a good conversation without me, now would you?”

Jim: “Remind me again why I have to hold this silly stuffed monkey for the photo op?”

Me: “Because we’re recreating the scene from a picture the last time we were here.”

Look at the picture below, taken last April.  Same monkey, same Jim (even wearing same clothes!), but a much smaller Becky!

Here are the stats from the girls’ recent weigh-in at the pediatrician’s office (age 13 months).  Drumroll, please!

Susanna: 17 lbs. 7 oz., 29 in.

Rebecca: 19 lbs. 4 oz. , 29 in.

In order to help you visualize what those statistics look like in the flesh, here’s a little flesh:

They may not be chunky monkeys, but they’ve still got bellies!

But I estimate that their heads are still the heaviest part of their bodies.  Here are the girls putting my theory to the test. 

Becky (on left): “My neck is getting tired from holding up my massive head!”

Susie (on right)” “Me too!  I can’t hold it up much longer!”

Becky and Susie: “Whew!  We can’t wait until our bodies catch up to our heads!”

Every few hours, I get a little knot in my stomach.

And it’s not because I’m hungry (although I usually am).

But it is because of food.  Food that’s not even going to touch my lips.  But it will – hopefully – touch the girls’ lips, in addition to their chins, fingers, wrists, foreheads, and sometimes even ears.

I get a tad nervous every time I have to prepare their meals, because it’s such a big responsibility.  It’s all up to me.  I am the sole determiner of their nutritional status.  Of course, I’m also largely responsible for many other areas of their life, such as language and emotional development, but for some reason, I feel more confident in those departments.  I figure if I talk to them clearly and often, set boundaries and discipline them when they misbehave, and give them frequent hugs and smiles, they’ll pretty much turn out okay. 

But when it comes to food, I feel like if I feed them one too many animal crackers, their teeth are going to fall out.  And if I miss one too many vegetable servings, they’re going to end up with scurvy.  And then I would have gap-toothed pirates for children, and it would be all my fault. 

So I plan, and I chop, and I wring my hands and throw in a few extra veggies for good measure.  And I end up with a meal that looks something like this: 

And then I realize I’m forgetting all about protein (Hmm…what disease do you get when you’re deficient in protein?  Google says: Kwashiokor.  Add that to my list of potential motherly nightmares).  So I cook an egg with cheese. 

The girls wolf it all down and scamper off to play.  I’m left with dirty dishes, happy children…and a few hours to kill before I have to do it all again.  I’m not sure how long I can keep this up.  They’ve only been eating exclusively table foods for a few weeks now.  I think I see Spaghetti-O’s in the near future.   

I don’t like shoes.  I don’t like wearing them, buying them, even window-shopping for them.  I couldn’t say whether my distaste for footwear stems from the fact that I have large, unwieldy feet that manage to make even “cute” shoes look like flippers, or because I had a scarring early-childhood shoe shopping experience (although I think it’s more likely that my mom was the one who was scarred in those outings.  I was not a very enthusiastic shopper).

So, to recap, I don’t like shoes, nor am I particularly fond of feet…

…which makes it difficult for me to explain why my heart goes pitter-patter every time I look at these:

and these:

and these:

I actually haven’t had to purchase any toddler shoes yet, as we have been the fortunate recipients of the girls’ cousin Katelyn’s footwear.  I’m thankful that her mom, Julie, has such good taste, so I can rest assured that my girls’ lower extremities are fashionably shod. 

I’ll let you know if my current favorable reaction sours once I have to start hunting for the shoes myself.  I hope that the girls prove to be more compliant shoppers than I was.  Otherwise, we may all be going barefoot!

Just this morning I was lamenting that I didn’t think Susie would ever make the jump from standing independently to walking independently.

I should have known.  She just needed a bigger audience. 

Now that I have two walking children, I think I’m going to have to act as traffic director.