This Is How We Do It

Both of my small people are in the midst of a mom phase. This does not bode well for any opportunity to leave the house by myself (which, when you have a Grammy here, you actually get to do). Molly's mom-centricity is way more intense than Jack's (his momamania bursts on the scene if I'm in the vicinity but not with him directly. If he can't see me, he's happy as a clam with anyone else) and has reduced her to tears when I've left  her (yes, even with John) lately. She never went through a stranger anxiety phase or was ever particularly clingy as a baby but suddenly, here it is. I don't really mind, although it means that days are filled with a lot of chatter as my little shadow narrates the world around us at a near constant pace (and if she's off playing by herself, her inner dialogue becomes externalized as well). Most of the time, I just need to be around -- she doesn't need me to hold her all the time or anything -- so that I can witness her doing everything by herself. Apparently, I'm a fantastic audience (although I've been hearing a lot of "Grammy, Grammy, GRAM-MY" over the past few days and I have been able to shower at a leisurely pace while she serves my mom her 85th cup of hot cocoa with chocolate in it. Also, just so that no one thinks John is completely left out of all the fun, I pretty much don't exist for the first hour after he gets home in the evening... unless I try and run an errand and don't bring her with me. Sometime around 9am every day she starts asking me if Dad can put her to bed tonight. Why, sure he can). You can almost see her little gears cranking away as she problem solves everything from getting her arms through her shirt sleeves to climbing even higher on something at the playground to figuring out what rhymes with Molly. As much as I can, I encourage the problem-solving (although it seems to involve a lot of disrobing and de-diapering), even if it makes us move at a slightly slower pace.

Jack also seeks out an audience wherever he goes these days. His favorite playmate is still Molly, and hearing them laughing together is the most agreeable sound in the world, but he'll settle for whomever is around as long as he or she applauds and cheers on his new tricks. He has come up with some amazingly funny faces and is getting his arms, hands, and wacky smiles into his party tricks routine. His brain gears may be little smaller than his sister's right now (although you could never tell that by the size of his gigantic head) but they are working just as hard. He's healthy now (knock on wood) and really, really happy.

Although the days of living under a microscope (what are we doing? what happened? where are we going? who is that? can I help? are you all done? is Jack sleeping? is Jack awake?) are full of intense energy, I'm glad that I have two small people to balance it all out -- for me and for each other. Although I might not find Molly rearranging every stool/small table/chair in the house so that she can jump off them the most awesome thing ever, Jack does, so I just let it go and wait to cue the laughter.