Nostalgic

When I left Dallas to come back home on Saturday, Ana and Emma went down to visit my parents for a few days. (They were going to be there until Tuesday.) I got a call from my mother on Saturday saying that Ana had fallen on her wrist and was walking around holding it. She seemed to be better when I called the next morning, which is why I was suprised to get a call on Sunday night with Ana screaming in the background. She had fallen on the SAME WRIST again and was holding it like it was broken. My parents brought the girls back to us last night, and suddenly Ana was back to her normal self, using her wrist like nothing had ever happened. One of two things happened — either Ana was playing her Gram for sympathy, or God healed that little wrist on the drive from Texas to Oklahoma. I prefer to believe the latter. In any event, Ana is doing fine today, which is a relief to me, since I was definitely fretting over what a cast or a splint and an immobile wrist was going to do to her frustration level. Those would not have been happy days!

I took Em’s bottles away today. She’s only a few weeks away from her first birthday and can drink from sippy cups just fine, so it was time. Emmy couldn’t seem to care less and has been schleping that formula from her sippy cup like she’s been doing it from day one. I’m not one bit sad about the exodus of bottles from our house. And in a few weeks, I won’t be sad about throwing out that last empty can of formula. Em is growing up! And I’m not sad at all about it. Is it possible that the disposition and attitude of your child can color the way that you perceive memories of them and moments with them? When Ana was born in a very hushed and solemn delivery room, I cried and cried over her as they handed her to me. I remember rocking her as a newborn and just weeping and singing over her, almost heartbroken over how incredibly quickly she was already changing. (Thanks in part to PPD, but not entirely.) Since then, I’ve cried every time Ana has reached and surpassed a new milestone (still do!) and have felt supremely sad about these days slipping by. Ana’s disposition seems to be the same, high highs and low lows, a big deal around every corner. On the exact opposite hand, Em was born in a delivery room full of cheers and shouting, and I remember laughing out loud as I held her for the first time. Our exhausting newborn nights were spent singing and laughing over the expressions she made in those early hours. Every Emmy milestone has been met with cheering and more laughing, and nothing seems like a big deal — to her or to us! Not in a bad way but in a laidback, everything-is-gonna-be-alright kind of mood. I wonder how much the girls’ dispositions influence the moods… or rather, if it’s the moods that influence the girls’ dispositions. Who knows. But I’m so surprised by how different the journey has been the second time around, when I always assumed that Faulkette version 07 was going to be the same as Faulkette version 06. How wrong I was!

I don’t mean to get all nostalgic, but with a couple of birthdays coming up in a few weeks, I’ve been thinking about these things. What a wild two years we’ve had!

And Em is up from her nap. Better go!

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