My Faith and Joy… and Boys!

Don’t most little girls use their imaginations to feed their dolls, comb their hair and rock them to sleep?

Not in this household. 

Instead, my girls pretend to do diaper duty.  They hold their noses while saying “Poo!” or “P.U.! Stinky!” and use an inordinate amount of wipes to ensure the cleanliness of their dolls’ behinds. 

Although right now it looks like perhaps Elmo is going to get mummified instead.  At least he’ll have a clean bum.   

Another difference between women and little girls:

When women try on bathing suits, we can’t wait to be done with the process. 

When little girls try on bathing suits, they want to prance around and stay in them forever.  They don’t even mind when their bellies stick out.   

Becky: “What do you mean, I can’t wear this all day?  Just watch me!” 

Last week, Susie discovered that if she turned on the charm, she could convince her daddy to let her watch the NBA playoffs when she should have been sleeping. 

I understand her motivation.  There’s nothing like watching the game with your dad.  I have many such fond memories, myself.  I loved how animated my Dad would become when his alma mater was playing, and how patiently he would explain the rules of the game to me.  I loved our laid-back Saturday afternoons when he would turn on the golf tournament and we’d cheer for Phil Mickelson until he would doze off in the easy chair beside me.  I am proud to say that, thanks to those beloved times together, I can tell the difference between a birdie and a bogie, if not a pitching wedge and a 9 iron.  And I can tell that it meant the world to my dad. 

And I can tell it means the world to Jim.  Of course, the girls probably will know more about perfecting their wakeboard stance or popping a wheelie than they will a two-point conversion or an alley-oop, but that’s not the point.  What matters is spending time doing what you love with the people who you love. 

Your family will love you for it.           

This image strikes fear into the heart of every mother of twin toddlers (or at least, me):

It’s only a slide, you say.

Little do you know!  It’s only a slide with very steep stairs.  It’s only a slide that’s high enough to guarantee major bone breakage if a fall were to occur.  It’s only a slide with a long drop-off at the end of the chute where little legs can’t nearly touch the ground.  And it’s only a slide with a large enough distance between the stairs and the end of the slide so that I can’t be in both places at one time.  While one daughter is precariously climbing the stairs and the other is preparing to launch herself down the chute, I can merely watch from below, helpless. 

Helpless! 

I guess that’s a feeling I’m going to have to get used to in the days and years to come.

Because the girls love their independence.   

And they LOVE this slide.

My motherly heart may quiver every time they climb those steps into the great unknown, but I find great comfort in knowing that they’ll be traveling the chutes and ladders of life with each other. 

I guess it’s time to get the girls tricycles, since they’re starting to improvise.  This afternoon, I found Susie tipping over her “walk behind” walker, sitting on it, and exclaiming, “Bike!  Bike!  Bike!”  I suppose I’m glad she’s not (yet) making vrooming sounds and announcing she’s on a “Dirt bike!  Dirt bike!  Dirt bike!”