Norah, these days, is ready to rock and roll every morning. She doesn't want good morning hugs or any of that mess, just lift her out of the crib and set her on her already moving feet and stand back. Lord help us, the day she starts trying to climb out of her cage herself. I am already grateful we put a regular door knob on her door and not the lever-lookin' kind. This morning I got smart and asked for a kiss before setting her free and actually got one. But I have the feeling she considered it payment for my freedom services.
Want to know another weird factoid about me? I am strangely proud of the random mystery bruises I get on my forearms. I get bruises on my legs all the time cause I'm a klutz and can't navigate my own house. But the ones on my arms, for some reason, speak to me like I'm really a mommy because I have done something or hoisted something/someone or carried too many toys and that's what caused them. They're like more adult or something.
Somehow we have trained Norah to close the bathroom door when it's left open. She loves the bathroom, its a wonderland of fun. And for a while we had a problem that when one of us would forget to close it, she would go in there and mess with stuff. Well somehow, in my quest to make leaving the bathroom less devastating, I taught her that closing the bathroom door is great fun. So now she does it on her own. We won't even know the door was open. We'll just hear a quiet click and then Norah comes into whatever room we are clapping for herself. It took us a bit to realize what she had done. And it is one of the best things she has learned how to do. Now she loves to close doors. Strange child.
The clapping thing is cool, too. She claps all the time, for everything, sometimes for nothing. She claps if she hears the words "good job" whether they're directed at her or not. And I think she believes it is her superpower to walk into a room of adults (like our awesome church small group) and start clapping and have every single person join her. I keep thinking that maybe this will keep developing into like the gift to encourage people and what an awesome gift that would be for her to have.
Lainie, my current passenger daughter making my clothes fit funny, is growing away. She moves so much, much more than Norah or Aislynn ever did. I can't decide if she's just got that much more room of if she's going to be a wild child. I have a sneaky suspicion that it's both. I love having a name to call her. Before we had kids I thought I would be one of those who would keep the name a secret until the baby was born and have this big surprise. But I just think its so much fun to have chosen her name and call her by it and kind of have some early bonding. I have some fears regarding bonding with our second earthly child. I struggled to bond with Norah while she was in the NICU and I know that was part her just being hooked up to so much at first and not being able to hold her and part of it was also grief over losing Aislynn, the loss of our girl itself and fear over exposing my heart to that again. I worry about favoring Norah over Lainie. But I have faith that God will work all that out in my heart so that I can have that connection with both of them. Different connections, sure, but that's how its supposed to be. I've never subscribed to that saying "I love my children equally". I love my children with equal fierceness but the love is different because each child is different. I expect my mother loves me, my sister, and brother differently just because we are very different people, but I know that she loves us with a fierceness that is equally staggering. My mother passed down her momma tiger fierceness to me, I'm sure of it. Did you guys ever hear about the time my mother had an entire hospital floor of doctor interns and residents terrified to even walk into my brother's room when he had surgery as a baby? The head surgeon had to come up to talk to her. Every nurse was shocked cause he never graced that floor with his presence but he had to cause my mom had put the fear of God into the "pee-ons" as she called them. Classic.
I have laundry baskets calling my name and they are developing attitudes that I don't appreciate. I think I'll let them stew a bit longer. I'm a rebel like that.
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