Someone, who shall remain nameless, came home last night with flowers. This someone also told me that he (or she) will always think I'm beautiful. All this in response to said person finally reading the blog, especially the post on my hair issues. Score many points for this person.
This person also wondered if our entire lives were now going to be freely available to the world via toddlerspit. I assured him (or her) that there was much that would remain off-limits, and he (or she) was much relieved. There will be much teasing, however: anytime one of us acts up, the new threat will be "Blog fodder!" I wonder how long that will be funny.
As we were settling into bed last night, we were talking about some of Addie's recent quirks, and how we don't want to forget them, and that maybe this is the best thing about this blog. It might keep us from forgetting the wonder these children bring us. You never think you're going to forget the amazing things they do, but then life gets going so fast, and before you know it, you've forgotten what Addie smelled like as a baby, or how she feels cuddled into the crook of your arm, or how Nolie makes the most amazing squeaks as she smiles and has such fabulous fat rolls that it's all I can do to keep from nibbling at her.
I feel like I'm much more cognizant of the time passing with Nolie, since we're not going to have any more kids; I'm really appreciating her baby-ness and not worrying too much about her reaching milestones or getting to the next stage, like I did with Addie. I'm trying to just be with her, to enjoy these whisper-fast moments.
And Addie's growing so fast, too. She's doing things now she'll never do again, and which are charming and weird and uniquely her. Her latest fascination is with mirrors. She likes especially to stand in front of the full-length one in our room and spit on it, so that I will come in hours later and the entire bottom half of the glass is totally coated in dried goo. I find this completely disgusting. But she thinks it's hilarious.
She also likes to go to the mirror when she's having a tantrum to watch herself cry. She will say something like, "Mommy, sing me a song while I'm cryin'!" That song always has to be the theme from Sesame Street. So, you're standing there in front of the spit-soaked mirror while your toddler watches herself cry, singing, "Sunny days...sweepin' the clouds away...." Whoa.
Other than that, though, Addie doesn't worry too much about how she looks. She's pretty much function-oriented. If her clothes are uncomfortable, she takes them off. She's not keen on having her hair brushed or her face washed. Sometimes she'll scream, "Mommy, move my hair!" just because it's falling into her face and keeping her from doing whatever it is she's doing. But mostly she's utterly unconscious of how she "should" look or what she "should" wear. It reminds me of that Sweet Honey in the Rock song about there being "no mirrors in my nana's house, and the beauty that I saw in everything was in her eyes." I know there will come a day soon when Addie will lose this lack of self-consciousness, and I will mourn these easy moments of just being and doing.
In the meanwhile, and with "someone's" help, I hope that I learn more from Addie about mirrors than she learns from me.