Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Hiding and Seeking.

I haven't mentioned that Addie is 44 inches tall, and weighs about 40 pounds.  Which means she is a string-bean, just like her old man.  We are working very hard with her on whining, on not to do it, anyway, and on learning to say goodbye to her friends when they leave the house instead of collapsing in a heap of tears.  She may look like Eric, in other words, but she's got a good bit of her mama in her.  Big emotions, big attitude, lots of opinions.  Which is all good stuff, in the right doses. 

Every night before she goes to bed she whips out this old book--a book I had when I was a kid, and then my brother after me--of Christmas carols, illustrated with Mickey Mouse characters.  Eric and I will walk past her bedroom, door closed, and hear her singing "O' Christmas Tree" or "Deck the Halls," to herself.  Across the hall, in her room, Nolie is singing ABCs.  It's a virtual chorale around here.

The girls also play a hilarious version of hide and seek, where one will cover her eyes and count sometimes to ten, sometimes not, and then the other one will hide, sometimes not, and then when one says "ready or not here I come" they both jump up, run at each other, and scream in delight.  There's no hiding, only seeking, and huge laughter and rejoicing at being reunited.  Oh, Lord, that cracks me up. 

Speaking of seeking, I continue to try to find my way in this world in which I have this new family member I've affectionately labeled "Tithtomm," or The Illness That Has Taken Over My Mother."  Tithtomm calls me late at night and whispers conspiratorial fantasies into the receiver.  Tithtomm leaves nasty messages on my voicemail.  Hearing from Tithtomm makes me sad, sad, sad, and some other emotions, too.  I finally had to block Tithtomm's number from calling.  Which was a little like severing my own umbilical cord. 

And which is also not to say I hope my mom doesn't call me again someday.  It's just to say I can't keep letting Tithtomm in.  He's naughty and mean and my personal challenge at the moment is to just let him exist without trying to control or eradicate him, but without letting him knock me over, either.  Such a Buddhist enterprise, and scary.  Sometimes hiding, sometimes seeking.

No comments:

Post a Comment