Sister, Sister

Like I'm sure most moms do, I often sit back and stare in awe at my children. I'm not afraid to admit that I'm that mom that thinks I should call the 9 o'clock news because Tové just looked at me and smiled the biggest, most heartwarming smile. Or because Tempess has completely rewritten the words to Up, Up High (that's Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star for all the nonfans that haven't bought her CD yet).

But I digress.

So in true mommydom nature, I was staring at my girls, watching them play together. Before I knew it, I was back in my childhood, watching all of my favorite TV friends go through life with their twin sister by their side and thinking how awesome it would be if I had one of those too. 

In all of our pre-baby, pregnancy chaos, we definitely wanted a boy, so we could be done. So we'd have society's perfect pair of kids. Society's perfect family of four. But watching Tempess and Tové play together, I was reminded of how I felt growing up sisterless. God has given both of them the perfect gift - a lifelong friend. Someone they can go through life with, side-by-side.

Tempess is still working to understand the concept of sisterdom, and that she's a big sister. But she does know No Mommy. Baby Sister. Me Tempess.

And she taught Tové to crawl to her, which Tové did giggling and smiling the entire time. And they cannot stand being away from each other, both girls crawling over me and Todd to smell what the other just ate as they lay nose to nose and have giggle wars.

Watching Tempess openly embrace her role as big sister, eager to share her vast knowledge of the world with Tové, warms my heart in ways I've never known before.

Don't get me wrong. Tempess is quick to tell me Mommy, Baby down, so that I can give her whatever it is she wants at the moment - dancing with her, food, kisses, more food. But as soon as that momentary desire has been met, she's back in Tové's face, singing Sister, Sister.

I've Never Bathed Tové

Tonight I bathed Tové for the first time in her eight-month existence.

It went pretty ok. It was a straightforward process. Nothing went wrong. But I never want to do it again.

You see up until tonight bath time was Daddy's thing. But, he wanted to make stew tonight since the Great Arctic Freeze is upon Chicago. So we switched roles - he's cooking and I gave baths.

Bathing the girls made me realize how much I love the roles we've carved out for ourselves. My responsibilities around the house are things that either I generally enjoy or come natural for me. I don't dislike giving the girls a bath, but it's awkward for me. I haven't regularly bathed* another little person since my sister was Tempess' age. That was 11 years ago.

Then there was the absence of laughter that usually fills the house during bath time. No, it wasn't replaced with screams or cries, but there were no squeals of joy either. I felt like I was encroaching upon Todd's territory where I was not invited. The whole experience just was not natural.

So I will gladly take my nursing, cooking, singing and rocking to sleep duties. Daddy can have bath time.

Why Can't It Be Easy?

About a month or two ago, Todd and I got into a huge argument, and after we both had calmed down, we tried to restore some normalcy to our relationship and routine. The problem was that the issue that caused the argument in the first place still had not been resolved. We spent the next few weeks avoiding the elephant in the room until it grew so big we could barely fit in the room with it.

I was ready to attack the elephant and reclaim my living space, but Todd wasn't. And then I persuaded him to address it before it reached the point of no return he was. So we sat down and we had a long, overdue discussion about us. Our issues. Our fears. Our doubts. He went first, telling me his biggest issues with the relationship. And I listened, asking permission to speak to make sure I didn't cut him off. I responded to his issues, explaining things that he didn't understand. Then, I went. And he did the same. And throughout the conversation, we both acknowledged where we were wrong and agreed to work on those things that bothered the other. And in those areas where we could see the other person's side, but didn't totally agree that we were wrong or they were right, we did the unthinkable - we came up with a mutually satisfying compromise.

And together, we decided to move forward. The End.

Only, a few days later, I couldn't help but feel like it wasn't the end. It was too easy. We both took the high road and handled the entire conversation with class and maturity and worked together to make sure both of our needs were going to be met moving forward. Yet, somehow I still felt unsettled. Maybe I should have yelled, or put my foot down more. Why did I agree to compromise? He's going to think he can walk all over me now. No, I didn't have a particular issue that I felt I was too easy on him with. I just couldn't believe the conversation went so well. And then, I caught myself. Why can't it be easy? Who says that relationships have to be hard? If we both have the same endgame in mind, why can't we work together to get there? Why does it have to be a Me vs. Him scenario?

I am extremely proud of how we handled a delicate and difficult situation. I hope that we continue to handle future situations like this. I hope that we can continue to grow and mature as individuals and a couple and reach a point where we are teammates and not competitors. We are in this for the long haul, and how much easier and more fun it will be if we are side by side for the journey of parenthood instead of at each other's throats.

So, why can't it be easy? Because it definitely doesn't have to be hard.