Oh, Internet. Where do I even begin? I should probably begin with some obligatory apology about my lack of posts, and then some empty promise to post more often, but you know what? You deserve better than that. Call me presumptuous, but I would like to think that by now, Internet, that we are the best of friends. Friends who’ve been through it all. Bajingo cancer, moves to new cities, career changes, babies, disappearing cats, you name it. We’ve been through lactation, for Pete’s sake. TWICE. After all that time, I believe we’re the special sort of friends that don’t need to speak all the time, but when we do, we pick up where we left off as if not a single day has passed.
Life in the Carolicious household continues to bowl forward at an alarming clip. The children have had the continual audacity to grow up right before my very eyes. Michael is three now, and I would further that statement by adding that whoever coined the term “terrible twos” clearly did so before their child had turned three. Michael is both awesome and awful, sometimes several times a day. He has grown up in many ways. I can trust him to walk beside me in a public place without trying to run into traffic. He can dress and undress himself, including putting on his shoes and zipping up his own coat. He can even reliably be left alone for a ten-minute interval while I read People magazine do something important. For all the many ways he is a “big boy,” though, there are just as many that keep him a baby. Like his flat refusal to be potty trained, for example. I wasted an entire spring break tied to the toilet, taking him to the potty every half hour, determined that he would learn. I’ve consulted books, friends, and experts, and watched movies on the subject. But as Michael flatly informed me, “Mommy, I’m just not READY yet.” Since I’m pretty laissez-faire about life in general, I suppose this should be no different. Rather than tear my hair out trying to train a child who is not ready, I’ve simply decided he’ll do it when the time is right.
Michael might also be a genius, though I am a little biased. He recites whole books from memory, is starting to spell rudimentary words, sings songs with surprisingly accurate pitch, can hit a ball (well!) off a tee, and can build a sturdy “skyscraper” using every single Lego we own. He has also recently become quite the social butterfly, and enjoys conversing with everyone we meet, particularly cute girls. Sometimes he makes odd choices in conversation openers, such as when we pulled up to a coffee stand and he told the barista, “Hi! I puked on my blankie once, but it’s clean now!” I’ve since coached him a little, and just today he told a complete stranger at the store, “Hi! My name is Michael and I am three years old!” He then went “off the script” and added, “This is my sister, Princess Jenna, and that is my Mommy. She teaches dance.”
Not to be outdone in adorableness is Jenna, who is now a giant, sturdy toddler, running around on her tip-toes and getting into everything. She babbles a steadily increasing vocabulary of words, including “flower,” “cookie,” “kitty,” and “ball.” Though she naturally has her fair share of pink toys and girly accoutrements, since she IS the direct descendent of a certified girly-girl, we encourage her to play with whatever toys she likes, even ones that might be considered “boy toys.” Even still, she seems to naturally gravitate to anything pink, loves her “babies,” and can spend several minutes at a time draping herself with necklaces and bracelets. This morning while I was getting ready I gave her a makeup brush to play with and she delicately dusted her cheeks, checked herself out in the mirror, and proclaimed, “PRETTY!” Oy. We are going to have our hands full.
You may remember that a few months ago we decided that our house just wasn’t crazy enough, so we decided to add a cat to the mix. Lola has proven to be sort of a bitch but we love her anyway. We hoped that when we got her “fixed” a week ago that she might change, but the only thing it had any effect on was my wallet.
And apart from that, everything is kopasetic. I wish I could promise that I would be a better blogger, but I’m not sure that’s a promise I can keep. I will say, though, that writing this post felt good, and that’s a good thing.
