19/52 & 20/52 & 21/52 & 22/52.

Another four weeks gone by. Jon and I were in and out of town during the month of May, and a bit into June too. We had what I think were the last of our friends' weddings, phew. It always amazes me how I'm able to compartmentalize my "motherness" when I'm away from the kids. I feel like a different person. Not a better person, and not even the person I was before kids. Just different. A part of me is definitely missing, like a phantom limb. But there's a part I regain, too. I'm sure--or at least I hope--the kids are the same and live entirely in the moment when I'm not there.

During the time we were home in May, much of it was a bit soggy and gray for my liking. But the garden is happy. And now the sun is shining and, oh, it's nice to hear the clap of the screen door again. I just don't think I made enough time to look around and breath in and absorb this springtime. And here they are forecasting 90s this weekend.

Some notes: The girls have taken to asking for "naked ice cream," after I made them disrobe to eat some double-chocolate ice cream one evening. On Mother's Day, in a fit of frustration, Cecile asked, exasperated, "But when is child's day?" Another good "Cecile-ism": When we were away and the girls were at my parents', after noticing my father was did all the cooking and all the cleaning, she says, "Mac! You're just like Cinderella!" Tell her she's a silly goose and she'll say, "I'm not a silly goose I'm a person!" One hundred percent, girlfriend. You absolutely are.

Hello Genevieve, you're TWO! And your word explosion! Everything is a full sentence, though things aren't entirely in the right order. "In my hand, cap bubbles outside," means she's holding the cap to her bubbles in her hand and she is outside. Though we haven't been nursing for about a month now, we still crave a closeness. She always asks me to "rock a bit" before bedtime, and to rub her back. I hate to admit it, and perhaps it's because there are no extra hormones at play, but I'm more inclined to indulge her in this regard than I did when Cecile was this age. This makes me a little sad, that I couldn't have been more giving of myself with Cecile. It also highlights to me how siblings, though equipped with an inborn temperament, will interact with their given environment, which shifts from sibling to sibling, and that contributes to their personality.

Another wayward thought: I never thought I'd love having two girls. I mean, I love it. With both pregnancies I thought we were having boys, and even after they were born I've never adopted the girlie-girl, frilly, pink, princess thing. (No giant flower headbands on my bald babies, thank you.) Perhaps it's because my sister was born when I was fifteen and until then I grew up with four brothers? I don't know. And while I'm sure maybe all siblings support each other--at least at this age--there is some kind of special kinetic energy I see in Cecile and Genevieve's relationship. It's a true sisterhood thing going on, and it's not anything I've taught or fostered. I'm certainly not doing the best job describing it, and I can't give you a concrete story or example to explain it any better. But it's there and it's awesome. And so that's that. Welcome, June.

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