I see so much of Husband in C. She spends 98% of her time with me, yet acts just like him. Aren't genetics crazy? She is a thinker. Sometimes, I can look at her face and actually see her little mind working. One of my favorite stories about Husband as a boy (one that I have heard over and over again, yet never tire of hearing) is about him as a four year old. He was standing and staring at a pile of bricks when he was asked what he was doing. He replied, "just thinking about what I can do with those bricks."
Catherine is always trying to figure out what she can do with those bricks.
Sometimes, this gets her into trouble. She is a daredevil. She likes to experiment. She likes to test her (and my) limits. As I adjust to parenting two children instead of just one, C often gets the stern, disciplinarian version of me and less of the fun, carefree me. I often lack the patience I once had. I am overtired and can't always see the magic through the mess. It's just the nature of things at this stage in our lives. So, as she also adjusts to our new roles with our little man, I can't help but chuckle at some of the things she comes up with and I just don't want to forget them.
One of the first nights I was home alone with both kids, after the entourage of help had gone back to their lives and Husband had returned to his long hours at work, I was settling both kids into C's bed to read books. I admit I was feeling a bit cocky, having successfully fed and bathed and clothed two children all by myself. It was at that moment, the one in which I was giving myself a huge pat on the back and writing my "Mother of the Year" speech in my head, that Wilson started to cry.
Catherine looked at me in all her three year old honesty and said, "that baby needs his mommy."
I replied, "I'm his mommy." Without missing a beat, she said, "no, you're my mommy."