Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Chickie Bunny

This is Chickie Bunny.

He belongs to Little Meems.  She saw him in TJ Maxx one day when she was 3.  She picked him up and carried him around and talked to him the entire time we were there.  So, of course, he came home with us.  Thanks DeeDee!

When we arrived home, he was supposed to be an Easter decoration.  But Meems had other ideas.  We decided he needed a name.  Ever the creative child, she came up with "Chickie Bunny." (This kind of originality is pretty standard around here.  Her dolls' names are typically either Mary or Catherine.  Or Dolly.)

Chickie Bunny has been a loyal playmate for 5 years.  He'll make an appearance, then disappear for a while, hidden somewhere in favor of American Girls.  Usually, he just lurks in her room beside the bookshelf.  I redid her room not long ago and moved Chickie Bunny to the playroom.  I considered, for the briefest of moments, getting rid of Chickie Bunny, feeling she'd probably outgrown him.  But I couldn't do it.  He's been a faithful friend, and of all her dolls, he is the go-to when she's playing "moms" and needs a toddler or a preschooler in her brood.

He's missing some feathers.  And his Easter basket.  He's got tufts of idontreallyknowwhat coming out of him.  There's an orange thing tied around his ankle.  He's lost his stiffness, and now mostly either leans against a wall, or hangs out, oddly enough, on both his feet and his face simultaneously.

He has been loved.  And he clearly still is.

This is where I found him today.  In my bed.

And this is pretty standard for Chickie Bunny.  Every once in a while, I find him randomly placed in a chair, or on the stairs (in time out) or even in the shower.  Sometimes he's even wearing a tutu, or a shawl, or some bows clipped to his ears.  As he seems to randomly pop up in my life, I think it's only fitting, going forward, that he pops up at her big events in life...lurking in prom pictures, having a snack at her graduation party, as a wedding guest....

Chickie Bunny, you are blessed that a special little girl saved you from the clutches of a tacky over-decorator and instead gave you a life full of love.  Because love lives all year round, but Easter is only once a year.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The Weirdness

You know my children love to make up wacky games.  There’s Oh No My Baby!, Wedgie Mama, Big Wheel Slingshot (which involves pedaling the Big Wheel as fast as you can down the hill next to our house, then cornering into the driveway like you’re on rails while your sibling follows behind in an umbrella stroller tied to the Big Wheel’s axle and gets flung wide by the sudden turn.  The object is to eject before you reach the ditch.  Or is it?).

So what’s a kid to do when they’re bored on the beach?  Make up a game of course, using only a paper plate and the wind. 

Let the wind plaster the plate to your face and hold it there as long as you can.  It’s a contest, see?  And it's fun!  And then, do the same thing on your hiney.

That’s when mommy flips over on to her stomach, pretending she doesn’t know you.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Just Like Me?

It amazes me, how, as you watch your children grow you see more and more of yourself in them. 

Lately, I’ve been noticing this about my son, W.  He’s 9 -- an age where he’s got a foot in two worlds and he’s not sure where he feels more comfortable.  I guess that’s what the whole tween thing is. 

He’s athletic and physical like his father was as a boy, but I’m beginning to see more of the introspection and the shyness that defined me as a child.  He’s an observer of situations.  He assesses to get a feel for the dynamics before he feels comfortable in joining a group. 

I did that.  He doesn’t seem to be self-conscious, necessarily (unlike me), he just seems to want to get a handle on things first.  Or maybe it's because he's a little shy.  He’s affectionate in his own way, but not the least bit demonstrative.  Which is a bummer to this mom who wants too many hugs and kisses.  BUT, again, he's like me.  I get it, and I have to respect it, but it doesn’t mean my arms don’t ache sometimes.  He’s quiet.  As a mom I worry that he has something on his mind, or something troubling him.  From experience I know he’s just doing some thinking.  And enjoys being alone with his thoughts. I remember my mother bringing me to tears on occasion trying to make sure I was OK (I was, I was just thinking).  At the time, I felt like I was being poked and prodded and talked to death, but now I understand.  It’s agony -- craving insight into your child.  But I'm reminded by my own experiences not to worry, that if he needs me he knows where to find me.  I just hope I can hold up my end of that bargain -- the worry part, that is.   

Truth is, I like that he's like me.  I feel a connection to him because of it.  And that's better than any hug.

He's becoming such a nice kid.  A mature kid.  A handsome kid.  

And I'm so grateful he's MY kid.