Five and Two... Eyes of Blue

Yes, I know that's not exactly how the song goes... but it does describe our situation here. Unbelievably, I'm about to be the mother of a five year old and a two year old. It hit me today that in just a week, Margo will be two. Still, as I look at her wild, crazy curls and her crinkly blue eyes, she looks like a stranger to me. She has changed so much in these two years that every time I get used to who she is, she's someone else again. There are times of the day when I spend every second with the girls, and after hours of books, projects, and playing, we're united not just by glue and sparkles, or the fort of dolls around us, but by the most awesome bond I could ever imagine. Strangely, though, I slip away to empty the dishwasher or put in a load of laundry, and return to find two different children. Many times a day I stare at Madeline's shiny hair, her great big smile, and can't believe she's mine, and that she's the same child I once cradled in just one arm. She's a mix of humor and furor, laughing and crying, dependent on the moment. For the most part, she and her sister are the best of friends, and she loves to tell Margo, "You're my best friend, little girlie!" Madeline will build the tallest block tower, only to yell out, "Come knock it over, Marg!!!" Yet seconds later, will again build the tallest block tower, only to yell, "Why did you knock that over?!?" Ah, sisters. Quite similarly, one moment Margo is sharing every doll with her sister, and a moment later, crying, "Mine!" and grabbing things for dear life.

In other words, the normal progression of sisterhood. I love to watch it, in fact I get giddy when I see them playing school; Madeline dressing Margo in ridiculous get-ups and tucking a backpack onto her shoulders; Margo slipping into fancy shoes just to be like her sister. Those stolen moments, when I am watching with no one knowing, are the best. It's rare to get a photo of this; Madeline's beacon ears recognize the sound of the camera turning on, and she can disappear faster than you can say, "Snuffaluffagus;" so I've learned to just savor it, take a mental picture, and be sure to share it with my husband later.

Now that Margo is getting older, we're really starting to do "family" things more than ever. Which is, of course, the moment I've been waiting for. Playing with a toddler while an infant snoozed was no fun, but playing with both girls together is delightful. Both love to help me cook, which is great fun (and a messy disaster, but so worth it). Family movies on the couch (in the bed) are even better, because we can finally start sharing with them all the things we enjoyed growing up. We're starting to play games together, although Margo still prefers to collect the game pieces rather than put them in their rightful places on the board. Such is life. I really look forward to outdoor activities with them. We brought them both biking with us this summer, which was the most fun I've had, not counting the fact that Margo despised the pull-along seat and sobbed uncontrollably for just shy of two hours. But Madeline loved riding tandem with Terry, and since biking was our activity pre-kids, we hope to resume that again. Hiking has gone well, and soon Margo will be old enough to trot along rather than ride piggyback; and of course, beach combing was to-die-for. I'd move us to the beach in less than a heartbeat if I could... but that's another story for another day.

All fun aside, having a two-year-old is a dangerous endeavor. For me, another six months past Madeline's second birthday, the sleepy-I-can't-believe-we-did-this fog lifted, and I started to dream of something... someone... little. Up until Madeline was two, I was deadset against having a second. It was hard enough with one, I maintained, why push it. But as the months past, we moved her to own bed, and she became a little more independent. We started to discuss the benefits of her having a sibling, and whether or not we could endure "the beginning" again. Survey said yes, survey said no, and finally, we said, "What the heck," and took the plunge. Nine months later, as my ears closed in on me three nights after Margo's birth, I vowed not to do it again. Dividing myself in two is hard enough, and I'm wise enough to know I won't be able to divide into thirds. I haven't changed my mind, and I don't plan on changing it, but I do recognize the dangers of the present. With a school-aged child and a toddler running around, there's no one left who fits between my shoulder and my elbow. No teeny-tiny body in my arms, no one who fits (well, no one under 22 pounds) in a front carrier, and no one to rock through the dark hours of the night. And I'm good with that (after all, I don't think blogger.com would let me change the title of this blog to "And then there were five") but that doesn't mean I don't still wonder just who else would be out there. Would it be a boy this time? Or another little girl? I'll never know, and although I'd rather not, it still doesn't mean I don't miss those early days of holding the tiniest person on my shoulder and breathing in that sweet smell.

Fortunately, I have two cuddlers on my hands. And they still smell pretty darned good. :)