i should be going to bed, or if not, at the very least i should be picking up the litter bucket i am trying to pass off as our home, but instead i keep popping cold ones, eating leftover feast food and flipping channels watching tail-end of movie after tail-end of movie. i'll probably be up until 1 a.m. again. except tomorrow i don't get to wake up at 10 a.m., or 9, or even 8. duty calls. darn it.
but, speaking of doo-dees. 2 is two. on wednesday. where does the time go? her favorite things as of late are to: throw--no, hurl--her plate, cup, utensils and any leftover food that may be on them as far as she can, cueing she is all done; yell at, not for, me when she cannot see me; keep her eye on the colony of fy's (flies, of which she is terrified) caught between 1's screen and window; and view the last 20 minutes of the sandlot just to watch the "doggy, fuh-fuh!" in which she is fascinated.
opinions about everything from shoes to sippies are more prevalent with each passing day. as are affinities for purses, puppies, and all things 1 is doing (much to his dismay). problem is, opinions and affinities are hard to express when they are coming out in another kind of language--one only you, the toddler, can understand. frustration is sort of cute when it takes the form of an immediate flop on the floor, head buried in hands, fake whimpers in tow. sometimes it is sort of not cute.
my favorite things about her? her belly. oh definitely that. her blonde, whispy resemblance of curls. the resilience and determination she is learning from having a headstrong, equally-determined playmate for an older brother (from which she is also learning the art of vibrato and the thrill of the spotlight). the tender way she wraps her wittle awms awound my neck to squeeze and pat. the immediate, heart-melting tears that come from being scolded, which, at age two, are to be construed as pure sensitivity. at age 16? most likely manipulation. a trait indubitably inherited from her mother. they will probably melt our hearts anyhow. they did her mother's parents.
if asked ten years ago, at age 17, what my dreams of adulthood entailed, i am certain i would not have made any indication that motherhood was one of them. i don't believe that it was. however, watching my children grow is truly a dream come true.