As I pointed out a couple posts ago, there are lots of subtle changes happening in our household, many of them are welcome. And there have been a few more that I failed to mention before. All of them make me happy beyond words.
Baby gates. Now unnecessary. Well, mostly. We took the ones off the stairs because Norah has had the proper level of the fear of god put into her regarding the stairs. She treads them VERY lightly, or she won't tread them at all without one of us to help her. We kept the gate into my office and into the kitchen for now, though, because I use them while I'm riding the exercise bike. If I don't, Norah likes to come in and stand right next to the bike and wander up around the pedals, where she would get whacked if I didn't stop. I also like to use them from time to time while I'm making dinner, if the kids are being particularly pesty. But I don't really NEED them anymore, which is awesome.
And last night I realized that I was once again leaving cups with drinks in them on the end tables in the living room. That was another change that happened so gradually that I didn't even notice it. Norah now leaves them alone. Mostly. I still wouldn't leave a cup with anything that would permanently stain the carpet in there for fear that she'd want to try to drink some herself, but I can leave water and that sort of thing freely cupped around our house. And that is awesome. It's been nearly four years since we've been able to drink liquids with impunity and disregard for possible consequences. It's great to be able to put our things places and have a reasonable expectation of them not being messed with.
Then, just a few minutes ago, I pulled the high chair out of the kitchen (where we've been keeping it in between uses) and put it in the garage. She hasn't used it at all for about two weeks now, and for the past month or so we've only used it for especially messy meals. Our kitchen actually looks rather bare without it in there. Again, something that has been a staple in that room for almost four years now. I'm so pleased to have it out of the way.
Two is actually kind of a great time in a kid's life. For the parents, anyway. I have no idea how it is for the kid. Probably not great. They still have no idea what's going on and have a glaring tendency to bang themselves up a lot. But it has to be nice being able to sort of communicate what they want and need, right?
But, as I suggested in the title, two is a mixed blessing. Yes, the trappings of babyhood are going away (some might view this as a bad thing, or a sad thing, but I most certainly do not). And two is also the magical time when parents start to love their children as people.
This is something that Libby and I have talked about a few times. Up to about two, parents love their children (or the ones who are willing to admit it, anyway) because they HAVE to. Sure, sure. They're cute. And they're yours. And they're little things that are entirely dependent on you for their existence. And you love them unconditionally and you sacrifice for them because of that love.
But, let's face it, if you took the cute and the dependency away, there wouldn't be all that much to love about them. They are disgusting. They ruin all of your things. They control your life. And they contribute very little to the family atmosphere. They are there, but they don't really DO anything. Take away the "ahhh, adorable" factor, and you're left with very little reason to NOT want to leave them in some kind of baby farm where they could be provided the essentials and you could come visit them once or twice a week until they were old enough to start providing the family with some redeeming qualities.
But around two, that all starts to change. They start to become little people. They develop personalities. They start to do and say funny things. They start to follow basic orders and can help get out their diapers or grab their cups or put toys away (well, in theory at least). Right around two, you start to love your kids because of who they are, not just because you have to!
Yes, I know. That sounds kind of jaded and terrible. So, I'm jaded and terrible. But anyone who has known me for any amount of time already knew that about me. If you think about it, though, and you're honest with yourself, I bet you'll have to reluctantly agree that it's true. You love your kids when they are babies, but you don't start to love love them until they start to become functioning people.
Or maybe I'm just a dick. Who knows.
Anyway, that's happening now. Norah's personality is starting to blossom. And she's got some truly wonderful traits. She's funny. She can, and I'm not exaggerating here, light up a room with her smiles and expressions. Her entire face just transmits primal joy when she smiles. Her eyes brighten, her face opens up, and her smile crosses her entire face. She likes to sing, she does hilarious "ballerina" dances, and she has a budding imagination--creating little stories with her "friends" in her dollhouse or with some of Gabe's big construction vehicles. As I type this, she's carrying on some sort of conversation with her Yo Gabba Gabba guitar (well, Gabe's Yo Gabba Gabba guitar, but she's pretty much claimed it as her own, and Gabe's obsessed with army guys right now, so he doesn't care).
But, man, can she be a little B. Wow. She's got some SERIOUS attitude going on some times. And MEAN. I don't know if it's just because she's the youngest and is trying to push her way up the pecking order or if it's just part of her personality, but . . . wow.
Just last night . . . OK. Here's the story.
Gabe was sitting on Libby's lap in the living room. And, because he's Gabe, he decided to slide down her legs face first to the floor. But instead of getting all the way down, he left his feet up in her lap and was mostly lying face down on the floor for a little bit. Norah was standing by the couch and watched him do it. As soon as he had his head down and he was mostly defenseless, she walked over to him and, I shit you not, started to stomp on the side of his head with her foot. Just picked it up and started mashing down on his head like it was snake threatening to strike. And this was the SECOND time I've seen her do that in the last week.
Clearly she got a little spank and about five minutes in time out for it. But, come on. Granted, Gabe doesn't really help matters. He's such a glutton for punishment that he usually thinks it's a great game. He actually encourages her to "squash" him from time to time. He tells her to sit down on his back and kind of jump up and down.
OK. So maybe my kids are a little effed up. But they keep me entertained. And a little annoyed. And kind of tired.
But it is awfully nice not having any babies around anymore. And I get to laugh about as often as I find myself pulling out what little hair I have left from the last four years of raising them. So there's that.
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