my daughter

H stays with me in the bathroom when i shower and mimics my beauty routine. brush my teeth -- and she clumsily brushes hers; apply lotion to body and face -- she holds out her tiny hand, and i give her a tiny squirt of lotion, which she then spreads on her legs and arms; put on my makeup -- if i don't give her something from my makeup bag, she erupts into a true female fit, face pinched, reflecting the pathetic truth of how i feel without my blessed beauty secrets; apply chapstick -- she puckers her cutest-baby-mouth and i give her a dab of burt's bees.

it's all these things that make me feel so blessed to have a daughter. it's just plain fun!! she naturally wants to smell flowers without my beckoning. she somehow already knows how to play games, and i don't mean childish ones (or maybe mine are!) -- if she's not given what she wants, she knows how to withdraw her love and affection. then she lavishes me with her tiny kisses when i don't ask for them. she's already a "Rule's Girl" at 1 1/2!

i can already see us as friends as she becomes an adult. i look to my relationship with my mom and think how amazing it is to have generations of women, with a friendship so unspeakably close.

siblings are overrated

siblings are overrated. this coming from an only child, mind you. i wasn't one of those only children that felt some deep longing for a brother or sister. i never knew the difference; i was comfortable with adults. my dad likes to tell the story of when i was a child, maybe 4 years old. apparently i would look people square in the face and ask them how they were doing. "it would freak people out!" my dad would say with a chuckle. "you used to talk to people like you were an adult, really scared people."

it has been fascinating to watch my two children as siblings. i'm in awe of their natural connectedness, having grown in the same womb and nursed from the same breast. when they get into a groove and start playing together, i have such gratitude that they have each other and will be friends for life.

but it's the fighting that makes me say (with a just a touch of sarcasm) that siblings are overrated. the screaming from my little girl over every minor infraction, every bump from her older brother. the possessive nature of my little boy with each and every toy at any and all times. sometimes i don't interfere just to see if they resolve it on their own. they usually don't and from the next room i hear the most cacophonous screams -- i half expect to see a bloody murder scene when rush in to play referee. 'what is it with you guys?!' i hear myself saying daily. they seem innately bent on torturing each other most of the time, so what's so great about having siblings? as an only child, you get all the toys to yourself all the time; you get your parents' undivided attention; and have the added perk of being their only benefactor (jk -- totally morose, i know :).

then again, as an adult you have to adjust to being only a star amonst stars, instead of the ruling sun in your parents' world. this is something i'm still getting used to. sometimes i think some of my most severe woes stem from only child syndrome.

once upon a time, there was a little boy who loved to chase the chickens. he would sneak up on them at their midday shade and gallivant around with a stick, prodding with little feathers flying about. the chickens didn't like it, needless to say.
so one day, they got together to talk about it.
"i don't like it, i don't like it one bit," said blacky.
"nope, not me neither," said another and they went around like that saying how they didn't like the little boy to chase them.
they made a plan to get the little boy back for scaring them all those times and this is what they did:

the next morning when the little boy went out to the coup to let the chickens out, they all huddled together and when the latch was opened, they flew out one by one, landing on the little boy's head, until all five chickens were perched on the little boy while he scrambled and clucked. "yeelp! yeow!!"

then on the chickens whispered "one, two THREE!" and with that they all pooped on the boy's head! now was he mad or what? the chickens hid in their boxes and rejoiced.

the little boy went inside and told his mom what happened and she said,
"i guess you won't be chasing the chickens anymore--you scared the poop out of them!"