Waiting for a sign

When do siblings really become siblings? I think I caught a glimpse yesterday.

Caroline and I went to pick up Sam from preschool and his wonderful teacher, Polly, said with some chagrin that Sam might be a little upset. Apparently, he had wanted to color me a picture about 3 minutes before the end of class, but she told him there wasn't time to get out the paper and crayons. He promptly burst into tears, very uncharacteristic behavior at school for him. I was feeling rushed and didn't really talk to him about it as we headed for the car.

But Caroline noticed. Sam got in the car with his stormy face, and Caroline perked up right away.

"Hi, Sam!" she chirped, waving.

"Hi, Caroline," Sam droned, making his way over to her seat.

Caroline reached up and touched his face.

"Ohhh," she said with sympathy, "Were you class leader today?" Making a guess about why he was upset.

"No," said Sam. Then, he gave her a hug. They held each other for a moment, then they separated and looked at each other and she patted his cheek again.

"Love you, Sam."

"I love you too, Caroline." Another hug.

Did I mention that I was standing by the car in front of the preschool, trying to not bawl?

When you're the parent of two kids, much of your time is spent trying desperately to not let them fight like rabies-ridden badgers in a sack. You wonder if you might as well buy a black-and-white striped jersey and whistle and start selling tickets, because this is just how it's going to be and you might as well make some money.

And then, something like yesterday happens, and you realize that no matter what happens to you and your husband, they will always have each other to look after and be looked after by. The thought somehow makes all the refereeing worth it.

Sam and Caroline

Caroline has started to gurgle, coo, and make other funny noises, much to Sam's amusement. Today in the car we heard:

Caroline: "Gah-groo? Awugh!"
Sam: "Noooo, Caroline! You can't have licorice! You don't have any teeth!"
Caroline: "Augh!"
Sam, giggling: "Caroline, I'm going to take you to bed to go to sleep with me! You'll be mine!"

Sure enough, he wanted me to keep Caroline upstairs with him while he went to sleep, and the last thing he asked for before falling to sleep was to kiss her one more time.

Lest this post sound like all is sunshine and bliss around the Leen household, I should assure you that these types of episodes mostly make up for the other kind - the screaming, tantruming, pant-wetting, time-out-inducing, unreasonable and intractable kind, which we're having a lot of. I really do try to remember that Sam has gone through so many adjustments in the last few months, most of which he's completed like a pro. He's done so much that I've asked of him, and he never, ever directs any anger toward Caroline. We have yet to hear any sort of "put her back" request. I find that responding to his needs promptly when I can, especially his requests to nurse, does wonders for his disposition (I did need to put a slight cap on that last part, so he gets 10 star stickers to redeem for nursing sessions each day), and that sometimes he just needs some alone time away from both of us to cool off when things get overwhelming. It's so easy to look at him and just see how big he is compared to her. A few nights ago I was putting him to sleep while Mark was downstairs with Caroline, and when I had that rare alone time with him I was suddenly struck by how small he still is. His little back was facing me as I lay next to him, and his little feet were tucked into my knees. His body takes up so little of his twin bed. I suddenly had the urge to hug him to my chest and nestle my nose into his hair, an urge that I indulged while he snoozed away. And I lay there thinking about how fast he's grown, how good he's doing, and how proud I am of him. And I got a little teary, as mommies sometimes do.

And Caroline...oh, Caroline. I am so in love with my little girl. She is just so sweet. I loved Sam at that age because he was curious and demanding and even funny. Caroline is sweet and mild and snuggly. She wants nothing more than to nurse and make eyes at me, and when she's done, to sit up on my lap and just be a part of whatever it is I'm doing - eating, playing with Sam, typing on the computer. And when she's had enough, I rock her in my arms and off she goes. She sleeps for long stretches at night snuggled up against me. She will sleep in the co-sleeper for shorter stretches, but I don't really want her to. She feels like my teddy bear, my security blanket. Her breath is sweet and warm, and her little body feels relaxed and safe. During the day I can tell already that she is completely in love with Sam, and Sam is eating it up. I can see forward years and years, as Sam bends over backward to make her laugh, and she obliges. What a great match of siblings.

The Expert

I've been feeling quite bossed around lately. I don't mean the typical two-year-old traits, although we have those going on, too. Last week, I told Sam we were going to Fred Meyer's, and, with practically an eye-roll, he said, "Not Fred Meyer's, mom, Fred Meyer." I got the same treatment a few days ago when I told him to "touch gentle" when handling Caroline: "Not, gent-le, gent-ly!" Yes, I am aware of how freaky it is that my two year old apparently knows about the proper use of an adverb. I also get parenting advice on a regular basis. She cries in her swing, and Sam says authoritatively, "I think she needs to nurse" or "she has a wet diaper." And he's often right. I think I'm just going to go on vacation and leave him in charge.

The next step

I can't believe that I'm a mere 2 days away from my due date. Not that that means anything, other than that I could have the baby in a few hours, or in a few weeks.

As we're on the cusp of adding a new person to our family, I find that I'm getting nostalgic about our sweet little threesome we've had for almost 3 years. A few months ago, I couldn't wait to drop off Sam at preschool so I could go to yoga, write, or grab a cup of coffee by myself. Today, I had plans to go to yoga, but Sam and I were having such a nice time this morning that I decided to forego it and stay at home and play with him. After all, our time is limited.

I always pictured having more than one child, and I still am on board with that plan. But, I also understand how a mom can fall so in love with her one child that it's hard to imagine sharing that love with anyone else on the planet. Our little weekday twosome time of going to the park, the zoo, for walks is all coming to an end. I look at him, though, and I think about the tremendous gift that he's going to be getting in return for this sacrifice. It's a gift he may not always want - learning to be a sibling is going to be tough. But siblinghood is a school for learning life skills he'd never otherwise have an opportunity to learn. He's going to have to share space, share time, be tender, not always get what he wants or get it himself, and how to fight well. And when he fails, he'll know that even though he or his sister may not say it, they love each other. They're stuck with each other. He has no idea that this is coming his way.

Or, maybe he does. He's also been super snuggly lately. Not clingy necessarily, although that's happened to, but huggy and kissy. This is a child who returns hugs but rarely initiates them. He's just always been that way - too busy. Not baby who nestled into me, he'd rather keep his head up and see what was going on around him. Now, it's not unusual for him to walk up to me and wrap his arms around me, head resting on my shoulder. This morning when I was helping him get on the potty he did exactly that, and we stayed there, hugging on the bathroom floor, for almost a minute. Then, in his little stage whisper, he said, "I don't want to let go of you, Mommy." I don't either, Sam.