Crazy little people

I used to write these little snapshots of Annie at six months, or a year, or whatever it may be.

Then came two kids. And maybe I even eked out a little ditty for Sam once or twice.

Now? Now I don’t do jack shit.

It’s because they’re always MOVING. Let me tell you something: kids are not lazy. At least mine aren’t (I’m waiting for the time when one of them just wants to curl up and watch some The Good Wife with me, can ya all feel me?) but for now they’re all about playing, and fighting, and hurting themselves (I got Sam no less than eight pairs of shorts from a consignment sale and Matt is terrified of putting them on him because he is constantly falling). When he is not falling he is bumping his head or being knocked around my Annie (who may be retaliating because he just bit her). THAT’S where we are, folks. They are always in motion. Always screeching. Someone is always in tears.

This morning I asked if Matt was mad at me: he was unusually quiet and had a pained look on his face. “No,” he said, “these kids are driving me crazy.” He seemed forlorn. He seemed defeated. Then Sam pulled Annie’s hair and she started shrieking; there is no rest for the weary.

You know who we idolize? Single parents. I have no idea how they do it.

Not not that our kids are bad: they are great (when they are sleeping). I jest, I jest. They are typical three and one-year-olds. They are a blur, they want to touch and experience life. They need you to open things, to lift them to things, to wipe their butt. (I am forever wiping butts.) They are sly and sympathetic, they are hugs and tantrums: they are it all.

Sam is trying to run: he giddy-ups everywhere and falls everywhere. He is sensitive and shy, but a loner and explorer all at once (he has no problem going outside and playing by himself, leaving us in distress, or walking across a park by his lonesome after he spied the jungle gym). Sam will study and play with the mechanics of a thing (it doesn’t matter what the thing is) again and again until…eureka! He understands most everything, but only has about 10 words in his vocabulary. He gets frustrated when he can’t spit out what he needs to say and points to get his point across. Every night Annie reads to him and they hug each other before bed. Fifteen minutes prior they were fighting. They look for each other across a playground, loyalty and comfort winning (for a brief moment) over shouts and shoves.

[caption id=”attachment_2123" align=”alignnone” width=”480"]

Annie and Sam received matching PJs for Christmas and now Annie insists they wear them every evening.  She also insists on "reading" to Sam daily, too.  They both love this new ritual, and as parents, it's lovely to see them interacting (you know, without the biting and crying).

Annie and Sam received matching PJs for Christmas and now Annie insists they wear them every evening. She also insists on “reading” to Sam daily, too. They both love this new ritual, and as parents, it’s lovely to see them interacting (you know, without the biting and crying).[/caption]

Annie, in true older sibling form, torments Sam nonstop. She also will not have it if you torment Sam (unless it’s me or Matt, and then she’s pleased she’s the “favored” child for a moment). She both loves and loathes her younger brother, and with a flair for the dramatic, it can make for tantrums and tears. She feels everything times ten: her love is big and colorful and full of heart, but she can take you down with that same verve and vigor (“I like when you get hurt!” she told me the other day, to which I replied, “I’m sorry you feel that way.” It’s those little nuances of a moment — that knee-jerk reaction to not be catty and spit something back — that confirm I’m trying to parent with the best of intentions. And that is hard with these crazy little people.)

[caption id=”attachment_2125" align=”alignnone” width=”520"]

Crazy little people at Easter.

Crazy little people at Easter.[/caption]

[caption id=”attachment_2126" align=”alignnone” width=”480"]

Crazy little people at Easter.

Crazy little people at Easter.[/caption]

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