I write about Ella alot. Ella and I have tons (3 and a half years) of history. She remembers her dad and we can talk about it. She’s getting to that cool age where she thinks alot and puts ideas together in her head. I dig that. But I don’t write about Amelia as much.
Amelia is sweet. She has been ever since she started moving in utero. I knew that her personality was going to be so different from Ella’s. Not that Ella isn’t sweet but she’s never stops talking, never stops moving.
Amelia is cuddly and tiny for her age. She isn’t as talkative but understands every word. She is physically adventureous (will climb on the kitchen table in about 2 seconds if you turn your back to get a drink of water) and knows how to make Ella scream. She laughs when she (or anyone else for that matter) farts. It can stop her from a full out cry if you can squeeze one out for her benefit. She flirts with strangers. She also pretty much only nurses. At one time, she ate more than Ella and I combined but now it’s just na-na. And Cheeze-its. And the marshmallows from Lucky Charms. They are, after all, magically delicious so why not.
I am incapable of putting my toddler to bed. She will not fall asleep if I am in this area code unless she has my nipple in her mouth. And, even then, she wakes up every hour on the hour to squawk until I lay down with her and nurse her for a minute or two and then she’s asleep again. I don’t get much done at night. I’m fearful that she will try to get out of my bed and bash herself in the face or worse, crack her neck. She has a perfectly good toddler bed in Ella’s room. I thought that her near hero worship of her sister might make her want to sleep in the same room but no go. So, in an effort to let us all sleep peacefully, she is in my room. I honestly can’t put a baby to bed. I don’t know how. My sister hands my nephew his binky and blanket and the kid rolls over and passes out. That’s it. Naptime and nighttime. I have several friends that do the same.
What is this “binky” of which you speak? That thing in the bottom of my kids’ toybox? That thing which they all spat back at us in disgust?
If I renamed myself “Binky” would it be assumed that I was a stripper or a mom to many children? Maybe that should be my stripper name: Binky McHottielegs.
Yeah, I don’t think anyone would want me to be a stripper until after I become America’s next Biggest Loser. I could totally beat out every one of them on that show without shedding one single tear. I shout that to them every week through my mouth full of Oreos. Wusses that they are. Even if (when) I win the cool quarter million, I’ll still have to spend it on making the twins out front a little smaller and perkier since they have been sustinance for 3 children in 5 years.
I’d never be able to wear a thong though. We all know how I feel about flossing. And that’s just my teeth.