It's Come to My Attention

I've noticed a few things lately.



How much I miss my dad's voice. The new electro larynx is working great . . . we can communicate without problem. We talk on the phone easily these days, and he's graduated from using the 'straw' piece in his mouth to just pressing the device to his throat for speech. It's really been a smooth transition. But, I miss his voice. If I call him on his cell phone and he misses the call, I can still hear his voice on his old voicemail. That always spooks me out . . . catches me off guard each time it happens. The funniest thing is that I think I'm still hearing his voice when he talks. I don't notice the monotone, robot-like sound of his new speech. When we are together, I think I just hear his old voice in my head . . . the way he used to inflect his speech, the sound of his 'accent'. I really do think that my brain is just processing it as if he were actually talking to me . . . like he used to.



But when he's not talking to me but someone else . . . and I really listen . . . I can hear the robot. And that's when I really miss his voice the most.



How much food we eat. I've always said I wanted a big family . . . and now that we have 2 growing girls both eating breakfast/lunch/dinner, I am starting to get a grip on the amount of food a big family requires. We are eating a LOT more food these days.



For example: a box of Eggos has 10 waffles. In the past, I could get one box and it would last about 2 weeks . . . we don't eat waffles every day, and when we did, it was just one or maybe two at a time for Meg. The Eggos lasted a while in our freezer. Now when we have waffles, we use up about half the box in one sitting. Meg now eats 2 waffles, and Kate will eat 1. And, since they are eating waffles and it's just easier, I usually eat 1 or 2. So that's like 4 or 5 waffles at one meal. A box of Eggos now lasts about 2 breakfasts. Juice and milk are the same deal . . . now that Kate is on the food train, we go through both a whole lot faster than we once did. Fresh fruit, too . . . 2 bananas each time, so a bunch does not go as far as it used to.



At least I don't have boys. I hear that they eat you out of house and home as they grow up.



How jealous Meg is of her little sister. Now that Kate is walking, Meg has started to really show her true colors. And the brightest color right now is GREEN . . . the kid is so jealous of the attention Kate is getting. Meg does all kinds of things to divert any Kate-attention her way . . . pushes Kate down, sits on her, fights her for my lap, acts out at the kitchen table.

I had not really noticed the amount of jealous big had for little until recently. I mean, I knew it was there . . . but now it is totally in my face all the time. "Meg, please get off Kate." "If she cries, that means she does NOT like it!" "You know that sitting on her is not the best choice you could make." It's constant.

The best of friends, the worst of enemies. That's what I've heard about sisters. Who knew it started with they were so young?



Side note: I'm really tired of people saying that their older kid is not jealous of their younger sibling. C'mon, people. The big kid is jealous -- it's totally natural -- and it does not make him/her a bad kid OR make you a bad parent. Maybe big sibling is not pushing little sibling out of the crib when you first bring new baby, but they are still jealous. And, if it's anything like our house, the jealousy does not really set in until the baby becomes a toddler with a personality of her own. There IS jealousy between siblings -- stop kidding yourself.


How much I love our house. Seriously, I love this place. With each little project we tackle, the house is becoming more and more our own. Two years in, and this place is getting better and better. And it's impossible for me to imagine moving from here ever. It's a great house. We fit so well here. I'm home a lot . . . that's what having 2 young kids so close in age will do to you . . . but I don't mind. I've become quite a homebody because I freakin' love our house.

Why my dad always took me everywhere with him. When I was growing up, I always went along with my dad on pretty much any errand he had. I have vivid memories of him appearing in my bedroom doorway and saying, "You want to go along with me?" to which I would pop up and answer, "Of course!" The grocery store was our playground -- we'd bring a calculator to record our purchases and see if we could get within $2 of the final total of our bill. Just for fun. As I got older, I can remember having arguments with my dad because I did not want to go along with him to the store or to the movies or to the post office. I was just 'too cool' or 'too busy' at times. I didn't know why that bothered him -- but I'm understanding it more now. I also remember fighting with him in those teenage years because a trip to the store required a full shower and hair washing on my part . . . heaven forbid I be seen out in public in a state of disarray. Even though we might have quibbled as I aged, I'll always remember all the errands we ran together and how much we had fun doing it. For me and my dad, it was just what we did.

And then, just last Sunday, Meg and I were out together . . .and I realized in one quick instant why my dad always invited me along. Meg and I ran to the mall for a Father's Day present for Jim, just me and my big girl. As we were walking together through the mall, Meg pulled in close to me and slipped her little hand into mind. There we were, hand in hand, and it hit me: I will forever have a buddy. I will always have someone to take along and keep me company as I shop, and run my errands. I realized quickly that I'd brought Meg along with me that afternoon as my companion and not my obligation . . . I didn't have to bring her with me (as is sometimes the case), I wanted to. I had more fun with her tagging along than I would have had by myself. Meg was my buddy. And that is why my dad always took me along . . . he loved to have a buddy.

But dad only had one buddy -- me. I am so lucky that I already have two.


How little privacy we have. I guess I've started to notice this in the past week or two, since my visit to the Gyno and the meeting with Ms. Mirena. We just don't get a lot of privacy around our house. Meg is in our bed each morning at about 7am, saying her good mornings and asking to watch Super Why! while mommy (and daddy on weekends) get a few minutes to stretch and wake up. Meg is in the bathroom with me all the time . . . especially in public. It's a rare occasion when I can visit a public restroom without my shadow right behind me. Meg and Kate are both under foot as I move around the house all day long . . . following me from room to room, playing with toys and books I have stashed in corners all over the house. And keeping a secret? You'd better be careful what you say out loud when Meg is around. If she hears anything -- even if it's beyond her comprehension or not meant for her to hear at all -- she will almost always repeat it in some way later to someone.

Secrets and privacy: not happening much around here these days.

How fast time goes. People say that all the time -- especially once kids are around. But as I sit her and type, the party paraphernalia for my daughter's first and third birthdays is strew about the dining room, and my 'to do' list for party planning is getting shorter and shorter. My babies are about to have birthdays . . . one more year in the books. One more year gone. I can't believe it.