Two of Us

Soon we will turn two. In almost twenty two days my babies will be two. Charlie's vocabulary is much larger than I know. He can repeat just about any word, imitate a zoo full of animals, and randomly quote lines from his favorite film, a familial trait inherited from his father and Uncle Dan. His stand-bys are, "Mack!" and "McQueen, kachow!" His smile melts me when I walk in to his room first thing in the morning and he yells, "Mama!" as if it has been days since we last saw each other. He knows how to tease Nori, but does so cautiously, judging her mood better then anyone. He enjoys holding things she might be interested in and running with them, periodically peeking over his shoulder to be sure she is coming after him. He is a quiet soul, playing independently when he has a moment alone. He will sit on my lap for long periods of time, leafing through his books, pointing out all the things he knows or wants to know. He will sit and relax, playing with the tag on an old terry cloth bib, fiddling between index and middle finger. He still looks like an overcooked piece of spaghetti when he ambles about a room, but his hugs are solid and sincere. He is a little prince, my cuddly little bear, my sunshine.

Nori is often like a thirteen year old indulgently placed in a gifted and talented program. She is all the things that I had no idea I was but are seem suprisingly obvious to people who know me. I could use words like "willful" or "headstrong," but she is really just tough as nails and I want her to stay that way. She understands EVERYHTING. She is always willing to help me and herself, proclaiming, "I try," to indicate her wishes. She loves to sing and dance, and has opinions about the songs I play in the car. She often breaks into a head bop in Whole Foods and will hold the last note of a song a little longer than the recording artist. She generates attention any where we go, whether she is sitting primly in the gym locker room, waiting for me to get our things together, or waving and forcefully yelling "HI!" at the gas station attendant, screaming loudly when he walks away to help another customer. She scowls intensely and loves fiercely, often within the same 5 minute time frame. She drives me crazy and I celebrate every minute of her.

"Two" was to be our magic age. The age when we would be "caught up" to children their age. As we close in on February 12th I see that gap between chronological and corrected age close . No one asks anymore if they were premature. I know our past will never be entirely behind us, but I feel as though that part of our story is almost over for now. It makes me think that maybe I need to end this blog and begin a new one. A chapter finished but not all together closed.

Now, to come up with a new alliterative title....