Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Taking A Look Back.

The girls are 5 now, and at this point, we've gotten a pretty nice routine down pat here at home. The cadence (ha! no pun intended) of our day is strong and predictable. I cherish it. But it wasn't always this way. For whatever reason, it took us several years to feel out our new routine--a constant sparring of sorts, breaking down walls and moving policies. These little battles lead to some very rough days and some sleepless nights. I recently found this TwinTale, written when the girls were
3 1/2. We've come a long way since then, thankfully. But it's fun to relive it just the same.

This evening, a most momentous occasion has occurred. In fact, so amazing and profound was this event that it has taken me, a woman to whom words come easily, several hours to digest it properly so that I may relay it to you.
Tonight at approximately 9:00 pm, the child known as "The Ashlyn" crept out of her bed and began to scream. She screamed loud and she screamed long. And she screamed for..."Daddy". That's right folks, you read that right. She did not scream for Mommy. Didn't even want mommy, truth be told. At the sound of her cries, I naturally ran up there only to be met with an angry, reddened child in the hallway bellowing, "NOT Mommy! No Mommy. Just Daddy! Where's Daddy? Only Daddy!".
Perhaps you may be asking what a woman in my position might do when faced with this blatant rejection. After all, is it not I who cares for them all day, every day---day after day after day? Has it not been me who has put aside my career aspirations for today in order to raise my little offsprings to become the glorious and powerful women of tomorrow? When confronted with such a verbal slap in the face, what was I to do? My friends, I stepped aside and said, "Darling, he's in the basement. Go get him". Still wailing, she gladly took off in search of her hero, whilst I was left to languish in the first moment that I can remember in over three years when it has not been me. When the screams did not somehow have my name attached. It was like they figured out Dad could come too. It was a refreshing moment, my friends. Truly refreshing.
Now don't get me wrong. Sure, I love my various roles: The Comforter, The Negotiator, The Doctor, The Entertainer, The Judge, The Buddy, The Chair, The Pillow, The Carrier, The Seeker-of-Lost Things, the Cook, The Cleaner, The Fixer, The Storyteller, and my personal favorite The-Traveling-Potty-Seat-When-Out-In-Public-And-We-Have-Forgotten-The-Real-Potty-Seat-And-So-I-Get-To-Sit-On-The-Potty-With-Her-In-Front-Of-Me-So-She-Doesn't-Fall-In. (Whew! That's a really long title. I won't be making a nameplate of that one!) I love all these roles. I cherish them. But please, let me take my moment to revel in this glory that is Dan putting on The Comforter hat. It was a little like being allowed to sleep in on Saturday morning, or eat from my own plate without little hands snatching things from it, or (and this would be the real dream) going one full day without putting a Baby Einstein in the DVD player. It's the little things, you know?
In the end, it turned out that the upset was caused when The Caedance apparently "growled" at Ash, leading to the distress. The girls have found it very fun to growl at each other. Whoever is being growled at will always cry and say, "NO! No twin growl! NO!", while the other runs around her taunting, and yes, growling more. This routine happens every day, and they are constantly exchanging roles. Growler. Victim. On this night, Cae was the offender and Ash was indeed offended. And it was only Daddy who could fix it. After a hug and another story, all was well. Children in bed. Mommy downstairs, un-needed for the moment and enjoying it. Priceless.

As I said, it's always nice to look back at the moments that led us through those first few years, wherein everything was hard. It's nice to read that we did have little victories now and again. Oh, and we now make it trhough the day without a single Baby Einstein. So, I guess I'm livin' the dream.

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