I thought I wanted boys

When we were thinking about children, I was confident we would have boys. I would be a better boy mom, right? Dirt is easier to deal with than drama. And then boys could help Lynn on the farm.

And so I had it decided.

Then we had girls. Pink, glittery, dramatic girls.

Strong minded, strong willed. Smart girls. Girls that put on a tutu to play in the mud. Girls that argue, then brawl, then are once again best friends. Girls that are wild, and loud and messy.

We have play tieras and dressy tieras. Dresses and overalls, barn boots and those plastic dress up heels that girls clomp through the house in.

They pick their noses and carry purses.

We put on our pajamas for movie nights and snuggle and eat unholy amounts of popcorn.

Ordinary things are emphasized. Church is an occasion, and one must dress for it. Holidays are somehow brighter. Shopping is exhausting…but fun. There are glimpses of how in a few years shopping with both girls will really be fun, and still be totally dramatic.

Two sweet girls love on me. Two emotionally needy kids need totally different things, and RIGHT NOW. Feet stomp, eyes roll. Compliments are given.

We have bows, rubber bands and headbands but never can find a hairbrush. We have 10 hairbrushes, so it’s a great mystery.

Accessories are selected for me. Eyebrows are raised in disaproval of my fashion that doesn’t meet their standards.

They love nail polish and makeup and feeling pretty. They love the accomplished feeling they get when they help feed cattle. They want to drive the tractor, but so far are terrible drivers.

We have long and deep talks about feelings. Too soon it will be talks about boys.

Life will never be the same for me and I am so glad for it.

My world needed a little magic. Thank God for girls.


Not invited to the party

This morning after her breakfast I was changing Claire’s diaper. 

(Yes. I know she’s almost three…And STILL mostly in diapers. I know she’s too old. Somebody needs to come get her to change her stubborn little mind about how fabulous big-girl-undies are)

I asked her to give me her pacifier. 

(Again. I know she’s too old for it! But, I’m making up this parenting thing as I go)

She said “No”. And smirked at me.

I quit smiling and TOLD her to give me the Paci.

“Nope” she laughed in my face.

I probably was making the scary face that renders normal kids speechless as I removed it from her stubbornly gritted teeth and tossed it over to her bed. (My scary look does nothing to intimidate Claire)

“Mama! Dat not nice! You not vited to my birthday!” 

(She just uninvited me from the birthday party **I** am throwing)

Oh no she didn’t.

I told her that there is not a party unless I am there because I make it happen . 

(Lynn was snickering at me around the corner for saying “I make parties happen”)

Claire wasn’t impressed either. But we had to go to work and school. Since the girls squabbled all the way to school (and lost cartoon privileges for the day) I didn’t pursue it further.

So tonight at dinner she brought up her birthday cake, and said something about strawberries (or dawberries as she calls them)

She looked at me and her eyes gleamed with mischief. “You not vited”

Me “Well, I always bring the cake to the party. So I guess I’ll have to eat it all by myself since I cant bring it now that I’m not invited”

Caroline, ever helpful pipes up “Mmm. I’ll go with Mama and help her eat cake”

Claire “You vited! You vited! Don’t eat all my cakeeeeeee”

Me “I’m only bringing cake if Daddy, me, and Sissy can come” 

Claire “And Mamaw, and Papaw, and Jon” (She calls Will, Jon because it makes him mad….She’s a rascal)

So maybe with the help of the 5 year old I won that round. Who knows what tomorrow’s challenge(s) will be!

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