For My Girls

You don't know this about your mother. You are too little to really "get it".

You see, Mommy is a bit of a sap. I live in a constant state of panic about the two of you growing up. Daddy says I'm addicted to my babies. He's had to keep me from sitting on top of you, trying to squish you into floor to prevent you from growing up.

It's hard for me.

To watch you slip and slide into each new stage of your lives is beyond bittersweet. I don't know how I will ever begin to express what being a part of your world has meant to me. It has been the single most profound experience of my life and I spend my days wondering if you will ever be able to fully understand the depths of my love for you. If you will really know deep down in your bones how precious you are. How cherished you are. How beloved you are. How goshdarnstinking cute you are.

Every single aspect of my life has been elevated because of you. My creativity, my purpose, my marriage,  my connection to the Lord. I couldn't have ever fully understood His love for me, until I had children of my own. I didn't even know love like this was even possible.

So you can understand why I cry on the couch about a new tooth poking through, or an acceptance letter to pre-school.

I see myself as a warrior of memories. Or maybe..... more like a gate-keeper.

I have one shot at this.  

One shot.

I have a dysfunctional drive to create the most special, wonderful, fun, child hood I can for the two of you. I spend hours thinking about how I can make every single day something you will remember and look back fondly on. My guilt crushes me to dust when I'm folding clothes instead of blowing bubbles for you. I'm realizing as I am now a parent of two, you won't remember much from this time. I don't know who really can vividly remember their lives before the age of maybe 7 or 8? So not only am I debating if I should handle the strange smell from the pile of dishes in the sink...or if I should make us a home made mud pie to smash up outside, I'm also obsessing about how I am going to make sure you remember these days.

And this is why you see Mommy laying on the floor in front of you with that big black "clicking" thing shoved in your face all day long.

Who else is going to remember how you pretended to be Ariel and scooped up all the sea shells from the bottom of the ocean? How you so tenderly laid them on your princess make up station and made sure to sniff each one before setting it down. The way you made a cupcake out of play dough in your mold from Christmas. You said Snow White was coming to visit and she would be mad if you didn't have a treat for her this time. You didn't want to be rude.

Who else is going to tell you about how you piled every single doll you have into a stroller and pushed it into the bathroom with you every time you had to go potty. Sometimes you would nearly have an accident on the floor while you made sure every single one was fit nice and snug in there. You call them your "pee pee buddies."

Who else is going to remember your dress up drawer and all of the magic it held for you. Who is going to remind you about your 200 character changes you would have daily? And how you would scream at me if I dared to call you Ariel instead of Cinderella. The way you would hobble along in clunky high heel shoes and refuse to remove them even if your toes were squished. How you'd naturally sit with your legs crossed in a dress....without me ever showing you.

I am the one who will remember the hours you would spend setting up your play houses. All of the detail and thought you would put into each room. How you would think about where each person would sleep and how the couch would be arranged so everyone could see the T.V. It will be me who tells you about the time you insisted the bathroom needed a fire place because people's feet get cold when they poop. And it also needed a stove in case someone was taking too long and needed a snack. You placed a lamp in the bathroom because they are dark and scary and the water bowl is for the dog who can't get to the water in the potty when someone is sitting on it.

I am the one who will tell you the story about the time we tried to make microwave cake in a mug. We had such high hopes for yummy and delicious perfection.

I found the recipe on Pintrest and we were dying to eat our goodies while we watched Finding Nemo. You helped me stir our mugs and visions of a light and fluffy cake in just 4 min were on the horizon!

It was you who told me, "Mommy...I don't think this is right."

And you were right. It was a horrible, rock hard, stiff and taste-less mess. We learned that nothing that yummy can happen in 4 minutes. So we ate ice cream out of the bucket together on the couch. Daddy was mad that we didn't use bowls. We laughed at him and you told him to "chill out."

It will be my job to tell you about the first time we curled your hair "fancy" like mine (your words.) You won't remember the banana flavored ring pop you sucked on while we sat with your feet in my bathroom sink as we curled your long pretty hair. You won't remember how it took my breath away how stunning you were at just 3 years old. Your beauty is so time less, almost vintage. You remind me of royalty. A princess, in real life. I will spend my days cultivating your inner beauty, praying it will be as remarkable as your outer beauty.

I hope you do, but I have a feeling you won't remember our first Christmas as a family of 4. I'll have to remind you about the time we were decorating the Christmas tree and you decided that you were going to be the tree that year, so Ava wouldn't be scared of the real tree. You said you would stand very still and wouldn't peek at the presents we put under you. All you needed was that water bowl thing we had to put under the tree, so you could "pee pee" in it when you had to go potty.

It will be me who reminds you about your Dorthy obsession and the Wizard of Oz. How you insisted on wearing your Halloween costume every single time you watched that movie. Which was about 6 times a day and that meant you wore your Halloween costume just about every day. You'd come running up to me saying,"Mommy...quick! Do my hair like Dorthy before the movie starts!"

It will be me who will thank you for sitting so sweetly while I snapped photo after photo of you in our little natural light "studio". You won't remember your darling fingers or adorable feet. You won't remember how you told me to back up because you wanted a better angle for the photo. In the end, you would direct me and somehow I would end up with photos that were perfect.

The two of you will need me to tell you the stories of our mornings together. How I cherished and soaked in as much as I could of our last few months before Sophie started pre-school. Ava propped in the corner of the couch, 7 months old....happy to be nestled next to her 3 year old big sister while she watched Winx Club. You won't remember how every morning....Ava and I would be up first. My big girl would stumble out of her bedroom, rubbing sleep from her eyes and hand over her favorite bear,Ted,  for Ava to cuddle. I'd tell her how sweet that was of her and I'd hear, "Well Mom...she is my sister ya know?"

Who else is going to remind you of your puffy little toes that looked like mini sausages? How your feet were so plump at 6 months old, we couldn't put socks on you because they dug into your chunky ankles.  How you smiled every day, all day long since the minute you learned how. You won't remember how I used to hold you and sway you back and forth and call you my "sweet little baby from God" over and over.  I'll have to tell you about how every one's face would light up with you woke up from your nap. The way Sophie would hear you giggling in your bed (because you never cry) and she'd run screaming down the hall, "Ava's awake!"  It will be my job to tell you about the way she would push the stool to your crib and crawl right in there with you and kiss you on the head a million times. And you certainly won't remember they way you would buck and kick and squeal with delight the minute anyone came in your room to pick you up after a nap.

I will be in charge of telling you how you would suck your thumb when you were hungry or tired. Unless you are still sucking your thumb later in life, in which case, we'll need to get you some help.

Who else will remember your sweet soft skin? Or the way your squishy arms felt wrapped around my neck. How you would bury your face in my neck and drool and giggle when Daddy tickled you in my arms. I'll have to tell you how Daddy thought it was weird that I was always smelling your breath, telling him...."Babies only have milk breath for such a short time! Pretty soon she'll be eating real food and getting teeth and she won't have this breath anymore." He would shake his head and tell me I was the only person on earth who would find a way to be sad about baby breath. He doesn't get it.

It will be me who will have to pull out this photo on your 16th birthday. I'll tell all your friends how you were in the middle of a sneeze here, but I had to keep the picture because your cute little baby boobies looked so adorable. You will hate me for a while....but you'll laugh about it when you are 30. I promise.

And when you two are fighting, as sisters do....about someone wearing the others clothes to school, or taking up the bathroom or whatever. I will be the one to remind you how much you adore and love each other. I'll show you photos that captured you in real moments, not posed....fake smiling moments..... where you were showing each other love. You will look at the photos, just like I do now, and you will know that there is an un-mistakable bond you share. One of you won't remember life without the other. You will see the admiration radiating for one another in these images and your hearts will melt and you will be reminded how lucky you are to have each other. And you will stop your silly bickering (or else!).

So please don't be annoyed when I'm laying next to you while you are trying to paint or draw, snapping photo after photo. It's my job to hold onto this stuff for you girls. Until the days come when you can look back and pretty much remember most of it, and then I'll try to lay off. (I'll probably be the annoying mom pushing everyone out of the way so I can snap a pic of you at all your school functions though...sorry....you've been warned.) My job is to take this one sliver of time I have with you being so little....and try to mold it into the most amazing experience of your life. I want you to look back on this time we had together and really be able to feel the love we had in this home. My mission is simple: create it. document it. preserve it. remind you of it.

And okay, cry over it too once in a while.

I love you to pieces my little ones.