The Best of Us

Sometimes I look at my daughter and I think about how similar we are. My husband often says things like, "I wonder where she gets that from," often following a bout of hardheadedness. It's been made clear by him and all parties that produced him that her strong-willed nature comes from my genes!

I remember vividly telling my mother that I needed to make my own mistakes - that I simply couldn't and wouldn't just take her word for it. I needed to "learn for myself." As an adult, I see how positively idiotic that was.

"Oh, the fire is hot you say? I better just check for myself."

And I made a lot of dumb mistakes. I experienced heartache that could've been avoided and spent more time being grounded than I had to.

While I hope it is not an indicator of the teen years, this is already starting with my daughter. At nearly three, she already says, "let me just see." Before I can even get out the full instruction she cuts me off.

"Layna, dont -"

"No, no, Mama," she says cutting me off. "Let me just see."

Sometimes she takes it even a step further suggesting her own plan.

"You cannot have your fruit until you finish your dinner."

"No, no, Mama. How bout I have my fruit with my dinner. That be fun?"

Strong will: Team Mom.

She has been playing "house" a lot - going to the store, making dinner, making tea, taking care of her "babies," etc. The other day we all sat down to tea and she started say grace. It went like this:

“Yowd, bess (Lord, bless)... uh oh, where are the noonles (noodles)?!"

My prayers are like that 90% of the time, too.

Multi-tasking Mindset: Team Mom

Other times I think we're nothing alike. Like when I ask her if she's ready to eat and she says, “I don’t want dinner I’m still full from lunch.”

...who did you come from?

At 14 months, I'm starting to see some distinct traits in my son. From the get-go we had no idea who he looked like (aside from any character in "Grumpy Old Men") though as he grows he bears some family resemblance.

As seen by his jabs at his sister, he has inherited the teasing gene. Whether it's pulling her hair, poking her, or throwing her animals off of her bed, he has no problem getting a rise out of his sister.

Intentional antagonizing, i.e. "teasing": Team Dad.

When introduced he puts on a positively stoic air. He will drill you with unamused eyes while you ooh and ahh and goo-goo-ga-ga him (because now that he's outgrown his nose crease he's quite handsome) but he will not break until he has taken in all of his surroundings and you have earned his trust.

Thoughtful mind (and handsome looks): Team Dad.

For better or worse these children will take parts of us with them throughout this life. Parenting is funny like that. All of a sudden you find yourself reliving what you or your spouse must've been like as a child. I'm personally hoping that (aside from teasing) that Dad gene is in there pretty strong. For now, we watch in awe as they grow into little people and continue to pray we pass on the best of us. 

Myth or Fact?

"It'll be so nice that they're close in age!"

"They are going to best friends."

"It's hard at first, but it will be worth it!"

True? Or the same merit as "It's good luck to have it rain on your wedding day?" cause I got that one, too.

Here is what I see from the "boots on the ground" perspective: my daughter tackling my son to the ground. I see her dragging him by his arms and on his belly across the floor. I see her trying to ride him like a pony as he tries to crawl away. I see her walk past him and bump him with her shoulder so that his still fragile stance easily falls over. I see her grab his lovey from him and adopt it as her own. I hear her say "no, no, no" and mother him to death. I hear her plug her ears and scream, "It's too loud! It's too loud!" as he cries.

My son is usually a passive participant, simply reacting to her "affection." But he gets his digs in when he can. He's been trained to screech the second she gets within an inch of him. Last night he randomly approached her and pulled her hair. If she's particularly moody he will waddle his way right up to her and poke her. "Da," he says. His word for everything, but here I imagine it to be taunting in tone. She responds exactly the way he wanted and shrieks to high heaven. He waddles away with his two bottom teeth showing, pleased with his performance.

Two weekends in a row, we were lucky enough to have some grandparent sleepovers. A couple of weeks ago they went to Gigi and Pop Pop's, and both of them went despite my daughter's sentiments that they were "her Gigi and Pop Pop, no Josiah's." Last weekend, my daughter spent the night with my in-laws, and we were told in no uncertain terms that she wanted to go alone. 

"No Josiah tum." Josiah is not coming. 

"Nayna go Granmom Granpop's, no Josiah." Layna is going to Grandma and Grandpa's. Josiah is not.

"I go alllllll by myself." ...that seems clear.

The surprise of the century was when we all reunited the next day and she said "Josiah, I miss you so bad."(I will show it by stealing your cheerios and knocking you to the ground.)

So, perhaps all the hard is now, and all the benefit is later, and this is just a forced lesson in delayed gratification.

My brother are and I are 18 months apart, which means I do have some idea about the benefits of siblings close in age. The fact that we were completely opposite in high school didn't stop me from trying to tag along and/or steal his friends completely. We crossed the lines of dating each other friends, and I even ended up marrying one. (That fact is going to make me interview my kids friends with even greater intensity.)

Now, because we are both reasonable adults, we are much more similar. We even share some hobbies, like running. We still have some seriously notable differences: I majored in Public Relations, he will soon graduate with a PhD in Applied Mathematics. (What?) Nonetheless, we stay in touch, and enjoy hanging out when we get a chance.

So I see glimpses of hope that these statements might ring true. But here's to being hopeful that I don't have to wait 28 years to know for sure...

Keeper of the Forgettable

My husband pulled out his phone the other day and showed me a video he came across from a couple of years ago. My daughter, 9 months old at the time, was snoozing away in her infant car seat. We had arrived at her grandparents and were trying to stir her awake. Her eyelids fluttered before she resumed her slouched, head hung position resting in oblivion. My husband and I "ooh-ed" and "ahh-ed" in the background as first-time parents do for some time. She simply couldn't bring herself to open her eyes long enough to completely rejoin us yet.

Fast forward to our nearly three-year-old singing the ABC's in her bed at 10 p.m. In this season, it's hard to believe she ever had less than 100% energy. 

That video made me remember a moment that otherwise would've been forgotten. It wasn't specific enough to make a memory that lasts well into the later years of life. It was just an adorable moment that we caught on video thanks to the smartphone epidemic. Calling it "forgettable" makes it seem unimportant, but the fact is there's a filtering process that allows you to remember a first birthday more than random Wednesday.

There are a lot of things to dislike about smartphones. They are distracting, costly, and can serve as another unneeded venue to waste time watching TV or videos. The amount of accidents caused by smartphone use while driving is disturbing. The list price of your smartphone may be equivalent to that of a monthly mortgage payment. The effects of too much screen time, phones included, for children cannot be ignored. 

And yet, without them, I wouldn't have remembered that adorable moment with my baby girl. I would remember the collection of adorable moments and the sweet slope of her nose and mischievous, snaggle-toothed grin. But I wouldn't have remembered the moment we pulled into my in-laws driveway where she so cutely tried to stir awake. 

I wouldn't have the video of her first time rolling over, because it happened so quickly I barely had time to open my camera app, let alone boot up a camcorder. 

I wouldn't have a record-breaking number of photos from her first year of life. 

Without the pictures for proof, I might have thought I exaggerated just how much she had her tongue sticking out. (Every. Single. Picture.) 

There's something to be said about not parenting behind a screen. I get that. There have been many moments that I try to just "be" and experience it instead of capturing it. But so many times in my three years of parenting I have been grateful for the ease of capturing a hilarious dance, an infectious smile, or a sweet, sleeping face. 

Thanks to smartphones, I have a clear picture of every single day that little girl made me a mama that first year. And I am grateful for that. 

I'll be the first to admit that I have significantly less pictures of my son's first year. This makes me so sad, but also makes so much sense that I'm not sure I could change it even if I got to relive it. There are less pictures taken when you have divided attention 95% of the time. Don't get me wrong, I still have a ton of pictures. A ton. It's just less. 

I caught what I assume was his first time rolling over, on the second go-round. 

The moments when I tried to capture something cute were often invaded by a blur that is his older sister. 

There are more pictures of him confined by a bouncy seat, exersaucer, or bumbo... for his own protection. 

But his sweet smile is still plastered all over my 64GB iPhone. His first year and beyond is still overloading my additional iCloud storage. I still have his epic dance moves available at the touch of a finger. And for all its faults, I am grateful for the technology that allows me that freedom. The freedom to relive those otherwise "forgettable" moments we are often too tired, overwhelmed and overbooked to commit to long-term memory. 

So for that, and not for my inflated phone bill, I thank you, Apple.