Recognition

The Baby turned 3 earlier this month.  I guess I should call her something else in this blog... but trust me... she really is The Baby in our family.  This weekend S was looking at a scrapbook I made when I was pregnant with her.  The final pages of the book are photos of my home birth and then the transfer to the hospital.  Also included are some of the actual items from that day. 

When she closed the book, she looked up at me with tears streaming down her face and said, "You went through so much so that I could have kids."

That was more gratitude... more recognition... in one sentence... than I had ever gotten from my husband in 12 years of marriage. 

The Baby had a viral infection on Friday that caused her to have tremendous amounts of diarrhea.  I called S on her phone when she was on her way home from the office, she brought home diapers, popsicles, vitamin water...

When The Baby needed to be held that night because she was sick and I had to finish an assignment, S put her in a Mei Tai and attempted to make tacos.

When The Baby needed to sleep with us, S made room.

When The Baby started to puke at 3 am, S got a towel.

The next morning my Karate Kid had a tournament she absolutely could not miss.  In Karate Kid's opinion she cannot miss any tournament.  S took her so I could stay home with the Lysol.

Karate Kid has been working very hard for months on her Kata, attempting to be promoted to blue belt.  I missed it!  The promotion of the year!  But S was there.  I guess my Kid told S that she felt sorry for another boy because neither of his parents ever show up, but she was really happy that S was there.  I asked S if she felt like a parent yet.

She said, "Yes.  I'm exhausted."

And that was only Saturday afternoon . . .

How Children Are Like Dogs (and I think my gf likes them anyway)

Children are like dogs.  Or are dogs like children?  Or are MY children like dogs?  My kids are messy little creatures leaving trails of crumbs everywhere they go.  I have no idea where the crumbs are coming from.  It's like a continuous flow of cracker crumbs... but I never really see them eating crackers.  Nutella sandwiches, yes - crackers, no.  I liken this to dogs shedding their hair everywhere.  Am I correct?

Regardless of their crumb-shedding (and ability to destroy a perfectly staged home in less than 3 minutes), I love them more than than the Skyy Vodka in my high-ball glass.  Here's my motto:  my children mean the world to me, but aren't my world.  Meaning... I have a life outside of mothering them.  It's good for all of us.

My children are like dogs in another way.  

They either like you.  Or.  They.  Don't.

They like S... a lot... and I really, truly believe she likes them.  I mean she just doesn't like spending time with me and they are the bonus feature.  She likes them individually, and knows a bit of each of their personalities already.  It's not just that; she WANTS to know more of them.  And I believe her when she tells me that.  I've been told in the past that a girlfriend wants to "know" my children and I don't think I really believed it in my bones.  I wanted to of course.  I could tell my children didn't really want to know her either.

With S, I've asked the kidlets about spending time with her, referring to her as my new "friend" and they are super enthused about it.  They like her more than me at this point.  Normal.  I get it.  I'm not fun.  I make them do things like push in their chair and brush their teeth, and S takes them to the store and buys them yard toys.  What's not to love? 

I was extremely nervous about introducing them.  But the dogs kids helped reassure me that everything's going to be okay.  I've learned a lot from my kids.  I know I'm supposed to be teaching them super important things... but lately I feel like they are teaching me.

Last night they taught S to play UNO.  I love them.  All. 

Reflecting on National HIV Testing Day

I don't feel particularly close to my sister. Or at least I don't feel like I think I am supposed to feel in accordance to the Hallmark cards I've read and the Lifetime movies I will deny I have ever watched. It's ironic (pay attention Kevin... irony explained) because we are actually very close in age. Seventeen months apart were our births to be exact. So we grew up as "Irish twins" so to speak. I have horridly embarrassing Christmas photos from the early 80s to prove it.

When we were very young we were forced into having the "benefit" of being each other's built in playmate. I didn't think it was so bad. I'm the older sister. I used to watch her sleep. She had blond hair and big brown eyes... tan skin and the cutest little grin ever. I felt like the family outcast with my brown hair and glasses. We shared everything whether we liked it or not. Those nights that we shared our bedroom and a bed, I would lie awake and watch her sleep and just admire her perfectly cute button nose. One time I even bit it. Not too hard. I just had to have it in my mouth.

We are both adults now, and I don't bite her anymore.

Last summer my sister came to me, very upset because she had found out that someone she'd slept with was "sick." I think that's all she told me, just those words. I didn't say or ask anything. I just listened to her. Then I tried to make it explicitly clear that she wasn't a horrible person like she was insisting that she was. I took her to a health clinic the next day for a free HIV screen and afterwards held her while she cried in the parking lot from the relief of it all.

We talked about it a little... the choices she'd made and the future choices she wanted to make. I never feel comfortable talking to her like that. Even though I was born only seventeen months before her, sometimes it feels like it was seventeen years. Sometimes I feel like I'm mothering her. And I don't want her to feel that way. Maybe she does too. Maybe she wants to feel that way. I don't know... Writing about our mother is another blog, another day. Basically, why do I feel like I mother everyone... is what I want to know?!

The only other time I felt like she "came to me" and I was really there for her, was when she stood in my kitchen and told me she was pregnant, in a very unplanned manner. I just hugged her and said, "There's plenty of time to sort out how you feel and what you want to do." Or something like that. Eight some months later I was driving to the hospital because she "couldn't take it anymore" and I sat next to her during her cesarean section... a very unplanned birth to go along with her unplanned pregnancy.

My heart is tied so tightly to hers. She doesn't even know it. She sees us as being very different women, living very different lives. All I see is my beautiful baby sister with a button nose. I see such similarities in us I could never explain to her in words, but I can try here.

We've both fought, a lot, for what we have. I think she assumes things come "easy" to me, and perhaps certain things do. But I hope someday she will recognize and honor the struggles I've had to overcome as well. Though our struggles aren't the same, we are fighters nonetheless.

Our journeys into motherhood have been unplanned. It may look as if my perfect family was... well.. perfectly planned. I think now that as I've come out to my family, she may see things differently. Perhaps not. When I see her mothering her daughter, though, I know that we are truly more alike than different.

I'm proud of her.