Archive for July, 2010
I spent the late afternoon and early evening observing M and J playing together. The two stood side by side hurling toys from the back deck onto the lawn. M tossed pick-up trucks. J tossed Barbie dolls.
They played and played and played and are still playing as I type this entry.
Two peas in a pod.
The beauty, joy, wonder and gift of twins.
Today’s gift: M spent some time with Dad so that I could have a couple of hours alone with J. She deserves this rare special time. It is not very often that she gets all of my attention.
Our activity: A Mommy-daughter Hair Date.
My friend of 20 years is my hair stylist. I adore him — he is kind, sweet, fun, funky, cool, funny and everything else I treasure in a friend. He is also a curly-hair cutting god.
Today was J’s initiation into the inner curly hair circle. It’s reserved for an elite few that can get an appointment with Michael. J was in awe watching for the first time how Michael waved his scissors and worked magic with J’s already perfect, beautiful hair bringing it to a new level.
This may sound silly and trivial but there are two things I believe about hair: 1) styling/cutting curly or wavy hair is an art that few have mastered and 2) salon or spa time between a Mother and Daughter is an essential bonding experience.
We will never forget our girl time together today. I already booked our next appointment.
(Thanks Michael for everything — including allowing J to be your only little girl client and the very first in your salon! xoxoxo)
I gave M a gift today: my uninterrupted, focused, unlimited attention to his Street Sweeper. In keeping with M’s great tradition of Y, her name is Street-y.
I got down on the floor and we both sat criss-cross-applesauce. Animated and excited, M peered at me each time he discussed a new part of the vehicle. He virtually dissected her for me, carefully explaining every single button, groove, sound and switch.
His pride was palpable. He soaked up my attention like a sponge. He reveled in the spontaneity of the moment.
My surprise gift to M turned out to be my gift today, too.
It’s hard for me to see M on the social sidelines. It always has been. It’s particularly hard because it is summer and his twin J is in the middle of all the action punctuating that M is not.
This morning J started basketball camp (after her morning tennis camp). M was hiding behind my legs. The poor guy could not get out of that auditorium fast enough.
When we got home, I told him that one day he may want to do basketball camp, too, but I’ll never force him to do what J does. He listened intently and then surprised me by saying “Mom, can I have a play-date today?”.
I’m so thankful that he found a message (the social puzzle piece) in all this confusion because at the end of the day a few good friends is just as powerful as an army of them. Like his nutritionist told me when he was very young, kids know what they need. When he’s hungry, he’ll eat.
I have faith that M will do what is right for him when it is right for him. In the meantime, I’m going to go offer him a snack.
When I was a child my parents and relatives used to say “Mr. Sandman is coming” whenever I appeared tired and sleepy.
Tonight, M was so tired from our beach day and evening activities that he actually asked to go to bed. As soon as he uttered his sleepy request my Mr. Sandman memory popped into my head.
M loves to sleep (and needs a lot of it because –this is my Mom theory– he’s constantly in motion, constantly striving). When his day ends, he embraces bedtime and really enjoys sleeping. Nighttime is when his peaceful, calm, and relaxed self appears and everything slows down.
Tonight’s gift: rewinding time and witnessing everything standing still — M, me, my memory, the moment. Deja vu. Me and my son connecting and connected.
Today was a day of simple pleasures: working, spending time with the twins, cooking, cleaning.
Today reminded me of summer days when I was a child: my Mom was industrious and productive and incredibly happy while we kids were deeply involved in imaginary games that lasted from dawn till dusk.
All was calm, quiet and easy. A real contrast to the intensity of MRI day for us all.
Summertime and the livin’ is easy. Billie’s gift lives on.