Pointer Sister

Romey isn’t saying much yet, but man, can that girl point. I’ve never seen someone point with such fervor or enthusiasm. Romey’s whole body “points” toward what she wants, and her little face contorts with such urgency, and frustration.

Ro and I had a moment today where she was maddeningly pointing, and I kept trying to bring her what she wanted but missed the mark three times solid. Finally I said, “Look, if you can’t articulate what you want, and instead just point, you’re just going to get something from that general direction. If you want what you want you’re going to have to ask for it. So ask. I might just give it to you.”

Note: This is all in good fun. We’re working with her and know that she can’t point her way through life.

Gift

Dan and I always knew we wanted two kids. We weren’t sure what God had planned for us, but thought we’d try for two kids. Six months after Avery's first birthday we learned that I was pregnant. Sadly, we lost that pregnancy, but then, soon after, learned that I was pregnant again.

The third round of pregnancy was difficult for me, as I was acutely aware that my pregnancy was totally, utterly out of my control. Sure, I could do my part, but, ultimately, God’s hand would determine the outcome.

And the outcome was Romey. Oh, Romey. If you haven’t met her you just really can’t fully know what a sweet joy this kid is. I love Avery and Romey so differently, and yet, so similarly. Avery was our greatest surprise (and still surprises us on a daily basis), and Romey was our most hoped for.

And I want to explain the “hoped for” part because it doesn’t mean that Romey was more wanted. Moreso, it means that we didn’t know if our desire for another child aligned with God’s plan for us. And so we hoped for Romey.

And so you’ll understand why I love the picture above. I love that the holding hands thing lasted for a nano-second. I love that you can see both girls’ spunk in their facial expressions. I love that I can come up with hundreds of captions for this picture, one of which goes, “You better hurry up Mom, cause we’re about to cat fight!”

I love these girls and I’m so glad they have one another. They are a gift to us, but also to each other (whether they realize it or not).

Summer tasks

Dan and I have our work cut out for us--literally. Amidst other things, Avery needs to learn how to use scissors correctly (SCARY!) and write her name. I think she's got the 'A' down.....

Apathy

Yesterday didn't go particularly well. In short, the girls and I aren’t adjusting to our new routine (i.e. schools out). A lack of routine ultimately means that one of us (or all of us) slip into “apathetic, just get through the day” mode. Whenever I'm in apathetic mode I always look back on my day with regret. On apathetic days I’ve lost my patience more, and haven’t spent my time wisely. On apathetic days I wonder why I’m staying home with my girls. On apathetic days I resent Dan. On apathetic days I’m not much fun to be around. I care less, gripe more, smile less, and scowl more.

So, in a giving fashion, I decided to share my apathy with an unsuspecting pedicurist. I sat in the chair and just exhaled. I breathed. I contemplated my day and I felt really, really foolish, and really, really spoiled.

Staying-at-home hasn’t come without sacrifices, and whoa can I just sit on that word for a moment. Finances. Ouch. Career fulfillment. A little ouch. Isolation. You betcha.

When Dan and I decided that I’d stay at home it was pretty much a financial discussion. In short, I wouldn’t make enough to cover our daycare and related expenses. Plus, we just weren’t comfortable with the idea of outsourcing the girls’ care. I tried working for a bit after Avery was born and it was disastrous. I was stretched too thin; dropping the ball at work; dropping the ball at home. So I resigned, and wrote the tell-tale letter, “It is with great regret that..….”

Looking back, I don’t have any regrets. Most often I love being at home. I love knowing my girls. I love floating through our day. I love not missing a moment. I’m too selfish to share these moments with someone else.

And yet, I’m selfish enough to deny myself these moments by slipping into an apathetic, self-pitying mindset…..wow, something to consider.

Some moments from the last few days:

*Ave to Dan (reading her place mat): E-L-E-P-H-A-N-cross!

*Me to Ave: Why are you pressing buttons on the printer?
*Ave to me: I was trying to make some paper.

Going to Grandma's

“I’m Going to Grandma’s” was the plan. We marketed the idea to the girls by displaying a “vacation” magnet on the girls’ calendar. Every day we moved the marker closer to the vacation date. Every day we told the girls how many days we had to go.

In hindsight I guess I saw “it” coming; “it” being sickness. We were to leave on Friday, and on the Monday proceeding it, Avery threw up after a park date. The throwing up stuff seemed to be an isolated incident and we stayed in for the remainder of the week while Avery “recovered” from her cold/flu-like symptoms.

Surveying the situation I labeled it as a nuisance-type illness; the kind that a dose of Motrin seemed to do the trick to keep the patient on the up-and-up. The unknowns were: How quickly would the illness pass, and, more importantly, would Ro get it too?

And so we continued to plan, pack and gear up for the trek to Nebraska. Thursday evening was spent loading the van, anticipating an early-morning departure on Friday morning. I had pulled out my cool mom hat and had all kinds of neat toys and snacks set to entertain the girls on our ten-hour hike.

We were out of the house by 6:30 a.m. Friday morning, and made a stop at Dunkin' Donuts for a little “You ‘Kin Do It!” inspiration. I agreed to drive, and Dan was in the back of the van with the girls. Before we left I handed Dan some empty Target shopping bags, telling him that these were his "Oh Sh$t!" bags. Little did we know.......

An hour into the trip Avery started to look a little funny. Looking a little funny turned into throwing up, therefore prompting me to veer off of the highway to assess the situation. She “seemed” okay, so we traveled another ten miles, and then Romey threw up. You might say that Dan had his hands full…..

So, unlike how the little red suitcase (a precious keepsake from my Grandma Lois) said it would go, we decided to make a u-turn and head back home. We were packed, had a strategy in play, and decided to pull the plug. To say that disappointment was shared from here to Nebraska would be a major understatement. The disappointment seriously stunk, and not even multiple trips to Oberweis could diminish the feelings of “suck.”

Here’s the “good” news: we made the right choice. We’ve had a miserable weekend with two whiny, crying kids. On a positive note, they are feeling better, although Ro is cutting two molars, and in a world of mouth-hurt.

For now the suitcase is back on the shelf. We’ll try again in a month, and are really looking forward to re-uniting with Dan’s family. In the meantime, I’m back on Kleenex duty.