Aaron and I both have had a good start to the new year. The longer I teach in Wakulla “Will Kill Ya” County, the more I seem to discover my inner Southern girl. To explain, I am currently sitting in Tallahassee’s very hip co-op. The girl behind me in line had long dreads and smelled like patchouli. A much older man followed me to the cashier, took the other line, and with a wink, said, “I’ll race you.” Now my coffee-drinking neighbor, he sees that I am suppressing laughter at pictures of my kids, and with scathingly overt disappointment says, “I thought you were a student.” Nope—just a regular mother-of-two who spends her time away from her kids looking at pictures of her kids. Anyway, my cashier (I could stick three fingers through the loops that once were her earring holes) says, “Is this it for you?” And, I can’t believe it, but I say—to a girl at least eight years my junior—“Yes, Ma’am.”
I also do something I never thought I’d do. I say curse words. Afterschool with my English teacher friends. As soon as the bell rings we run to each other with some story about some student and swap a couple “I mean, what the hell?!?”s. It feels fantastic.
Meanwhile, life is the perfect combination of mundane and magical at home. In these hectic days of two-kids-under-four, Aaron and I have learned to be careful with each other. Today, Aaron says, “Do you have a plan for dinner?” instead of “What are we having for dinner?” because “do you have a plan” suggests that if I don’t, then he will help think of one while “what are we having” assumes dinner is my exclusive responsibility. And, these are, if anything, the days of non-exclusive responsibilities. It’s a “your turn, my turn” kind of life. Likewise, if I want Aaron to set the table, I am wont to ask, perhaps less subtly, “Do you need me to set the table?”
Clara is apparently being taken over by her body parts. Yesterday, she tells me, “My belly wants to drink your coffee.” Then, she scolds, “No, Belly, no! You are not an adult!” Also, her toes want to get polished and her hair most certainly does not want to get brushed. Clara is teaching William how to share, except her version of sharing is taking whatever William has and exclaiming with pride, “I’m sharing with baby!”
Here are a few excerpts from the pictures I most recently downloaded to the computer:
I like the next two not because it’s obvious my hair needs to be washed but because William is being such a William.
“Hey, where’re you going with that?”
“Who’s birthday is it, anyway?”
Oh, poor William. I promise we do sometimes make your sister be nice to you. This may or may not be one of those times.
Precious little thing Clara has definitely discovered jewelry.
I may have mentioned that when we go anywhere, Clara’s first question is, “They got a bathtub there?”
But, it ain’t so bad in the Rubbermaid. They love each other.
Show me your mad face, William.
I’ve caught Clara a couple times reading George in bed.
I took a shower on Saturday. This is what happened.
Clara and Aaron have been going to Sunday School together. I might join them soon once I can be sure that William can hang at the church nursery for two.five hours. Here she is, all purtied (yeah, Wakulla) up for church.
Finally, William can pack it. I found a recipe for homemade cream of corn and he bathed in the stuff. Literally rubbed that junk all over his body.