And…here we are with the new-ish blog! It’s not new as in brand new; it’s new as in updated. As soon as I shut the “old” blog down, I figured out that I really missed writing, so I decided to take things out, change the name, add things in and be done with it.
Some crazy-funny and poignant things have come out of my children’s mouths over the last few weeks. It’s such a cool thing to watch their developing personalities. A common denominator of sweetness underlies everything (I’m not biased at all) but other than that they are completely different. Zoë is very independent and can entertain herself for hours, and Niko will do the same only if he knows exactly where I am all the time so he can check in. Zoë fancies herself a party animal but is always the first one sound asleep, snoring with her mouth open. Niko is a night owl, just like his mother.
Much to my delight, they both have gifts for sarcasm. I love this about them so much, and sometimes I just laugh my guts into a knot. Most of the time they don’t understand why they’re so funny, because they’re kids and there’s innocence in their sarcasm.
As much pride as I take in their wit, my heart swells even more so at their sensitivity, and lately Zoë has been leaving me in a speechless stupor. Case in point: One evening last week, after they’d been in bed for a while and I thought they were asleep, Zoë came out of their room and this conversation happened:
Zoë: “Mama, I feel a little sad.”
Me: “You do?”
Zoë: “You do so much for us and you don’t have anyone to help you.”
Zoë: “I wish you had someone to help you, like a dad.”
Then she sat down and kissed me on the cheek, gave me a hug and went back to bed. There was no time to say something like “That is so sweet,” or “Don’t worry about me, honey,” or even “Gosh, ME TOO!” because as soon as she was there she was gone already. I just sat there with my mouth open, like “Did that just happen??”
It did happen. And I’m so happy because I got a very clear glimpse of her perspective. She watches me so carefully – that, I already knew. I used to think it was with disappointment, but I was dead wrong. She is rooting for me just like I’m rooting for her, and that is stunning to me. There is no explanation except that God is alive in that child. She is such a gift. They both are, and I am so grateful.
There is much more to be grateful for, but that will have to wait for another day. Right now I can feel the steely stare of the Basset hound boring into me, which I’ve finally realized (after two years) means “TAKE ME OUT.” And so I shall obey…