The Sweetest Dreams and Things
I haven't been as consistent with my posting lately, and mainly because we're so busy this month. April's come in like a tidal wave and swept us up into all kinds of chaos (and fun.) As you know, my friend Susan visited last weekend and then Sunday night we had a family group dinner... our family group (from church) is also having weekly meetings to prepare for the egg hunt the Saturday before Easter. Tuesday was my second to last Patriarchs study and yesterday we had four of Evan and Madalyn's friends over, and their mommies, to eat lunch, chocolate Easter cupcakes, and play. I was also invited to a book club that meets this Friday and have 300 pages still to read from the copy of Phillipa Gregory's "The Other Boleyn Girl" that lies folded open and mocking me on the desk in our bedroom. And Saturday I have the joy of throwing a wedding shower for a precious friend in Ocala, as Shaun stays here to prepare for a business trip fast approaching.
The next weekend's Easter?!! How did that happen?
But there are some things I don't want to forget to record in my neverending log of kid stories. Like how Madalyn has been saying "Oh, man!" with the emphasis on the "man," and dragging the "a" on a high note, or how she whispers, "gosh!" in a hushed tone that she's no doubt heard me utilize on more than one occasion.
Or how the other day at the park a friend commented, comparing her to another friend her age and gender, that they seem like opposites; the other little girl being a tomboy and Madalyn being prissy and girly and frilly. I replied that it was only because I dressed her that way (poor kid, and I swore I'd never pressure her to be girly, come to find I have a fixation on hairbows- who could've known?) But then this morning in the shower she was steering foam letters all over the glass doors like cars and saying errrrrrrr like Evan does with such intent you would think she'd been asked to rewrite the soundtrack for The Fast and the Furious and I had to laugh at the memory of that prior conversation.
She is, actually, very much a girl and actually asks for me to put "pretty"s in her hair, as she calls them. It's just that she has a little bite, a little dab of feisty and a dash of spice hidden just beneath the sugar. At the same time, Evan was never so tender with his dolls, nor did he pat his stuffed animals backs and coo. And it's Evan- not Madalyn- who has to find the perfect stick to smuggle into the car or into the house everytime we're outdoors... and it's Evan who makes saliva-slurred noises and turns every small thing in his hand into some sort of transportation vehicle. Madalyn's really just following suit with the noises.
When it comes down to it, they've both been given dolls and they've both been given cars to play with. Evan lined the dolls up for instruction while Madalyn loved on them. No one taught them this- it wasn't learned or adopted to "fit in" with their gender as Evan still doesn't understand the big difference between Mr. and Mrs... and I'm firmly settled on the truth that genders differ drastically from anatomy to behavior and personality (for lack of a better word.) This is a whole new can of worms so I'll shut the lid on it before something slimy wiggles out...
But I will say this much- nothing's black and white. We're all so different from each other there has to be a lot of grey, right? As I said, Madalyn's a mixture of sugar AND spice, just as Evan has a good amount of tenderness mixed into the snips and snails of him. This brings me to the other "kid moment" I want to have on record-
Daylight savings is really throwing Evan around bedtime. Something's just not right and he's been asking me to lie with him. I usually refuse but the other night I consented. I was so tired I began to doze off before him, and as I'm just entering dreamworld I feel a plump little hand softly stroking my arm... then my shoulder... then my back. I was scared if I pinched myself I'd wake up from the sweetest dream, so I smiled at him through half-open eyes.
He stopped. Then he shifted his position and began to rub again, as if it were his job to make me feel soothed and safe; serious work, his nose very near mine, as if he were determining whether or not he was doing a good job.
Thank you, I whispered.
You're welcome, he whispered back.
