A Tale of Two Mommies

…because more seems excessive…

Tag Archives: child kisses

Feelin’ the Love

There are truly delightful moments with my children, especially my soon to be threenager. Warrior Queen is ten-months and not really mobile, so most of her life’s navigation is exceptionally cute. Right now I relish the floodingly moist baby kisses and the way she will rest her head on my chest at times when I hold her. It is a sign of affection I will miss once it vanishes. It’s usually prompted when I provide smooches to her cheek. Once she’s sufficiently speckled, often she rewards me with multiple cheek sucklings in return or a resting hug. My daughter is much freer with her affectionate efforts, and I’ve found it my mission to preserve that in her…as well as her determination to assert her needs with the force meriting a, suffragist lady. And, if I’m honest, I’d prefer her to be a bad ass Black/African American suffragist lady, because they were the strongest among the group. With my fierce girl, it’s all pretty much swoon worthy. Little Man within the context of his independence and control assertions, swings his disposition pendulum to the extreme sides of the arc.

The other day he was so terribly sweet to his baby sister. He often is, but it is usually misguided with all of his attempts to be kind or helpful. He tries to cuddle Warrior Queen…by sitting or laying on her for a hug. He shares toys, but ripping from her hands the one she is in the process of enjoying, replacing it with a different toy she has no desire for. He will often help me clean…after making his various puzzle pieces rain confetti all over the sitting room area. Mr. Man will retrieve his own food…by climbing up the ladder that is our refrigerator shelving. His drinks are within easy access. But, this particular day he asked me to hug and snuggle his baby sister, telling me that he has to be gentle. True to his word he nuzzled and wrapped his arms around her so delicately, and my heart swelled. We read many books to prepare Little Man to be a big brother…he still enjoys them, attempting to enact every strategy listed. Sometimes he will become particularly frustrated when denied something he sees as his obligation. Following his lovely hug, my sweet boy asked me to feed his fierce sister. He tore a piece of his toast, showing me before lightly placing it in her eager mouth.

Several instances throughout that same day, and with increasing frequency in general, my son selected a favorite book of his he memorized, and sat next to Warrior Queen, reading each page with the same inflection in which I read each tale. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was an almost three-year-old reading prodigy. My daughter always seems to prefer my son’s literary touch to mine; she’ll gaze at him enamored while he concentrates on each page. The only time I have her undivided attention with a story is while she is eating.

But, of all of his growing and independence pursuits I’ve been expecting him to turn away from me…seeking to understand his world. Elements of that exist, certainly, but I’m surprised to find that my son turns to me more than he did when he was his sister’s age. Last night for example, Little Man’s latest pursuit to delay his bedtime is “two minutes” to lay in our bed. He doesn’t ask his father. This is a delay tactic reserved entirely for me…because he knows I’m a sucker for a snugglefest, and last night did not disappoint. My sweet boy cuddled into me as we shared my pillow, under three blankets. Upon his initiation we had multiple rendition exchanges of stating how much we love each other, “Love you too,” “Love you,” “I love you so much.” The final version particularly impressive, as Little man confuses I and you within his increasingly sophisticated sentences and requests. Furthermore, this was the first time he really told me he loves me. Prior he would say, “Love you too,” but that is something he’s repeated from my utterances…probably directed toward his daddy. I suppose he’s heard the other versions as well, but it’s never been like this. I suppose a piece of this was to delay sleep, but some day…probably soon…these efforts will stop. He will turn away from me as he grows into a man. But, these moments are mine for as long as I have them, and hopefully they will sustain me for the drought that is to come.

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Kiss the Girl

Warrior Queen is my co-piolet this evening, playing in her bouncy seat while my husband and Mr. Man play hide-and-seek with a side helping of chase. My son is exuberantly laughing in the other room, and the joy on his face compensates for the tantrum earlier prompted by a truncated nap. My daughter is joyous as well, kicking her toys over the edge of the plastic top of her surrounding ring; subsequently peering over.

In the last couple days she’s grown with the capacity for spontaneous affection, which can only mean one thing: baby kisses. It’s been a long time, but I’ve missed their grotesque wonder. Holding her, I raise her belly to my lips for a faux raspberry over her shirt. She rewards me with her wide, beaming smile before diving in to eat my face.

Image result for open baby mouth

(FantasyStock knows this is the last thing you see before you feel your face coated in a massive circumference of wet.)

Little Man’s were few and far between, but Warrior Queen provided several before her brother distracted her. It was an unceremonious end with toddler pleas to set the baby aside; Little Man wanted belly tickles too. He reciprocated with his special brand of affection, and some things are never too sweet.

Lions and Tigers and Bears…Feh…

The four of us visited the zoo today; Little Man hasn’t been to a zoo yet (Yes, I realize my daughter is not born yet, but I’m counting her in the tally…I’ve having far too much trouble breathing and sleeping for her not to hold a position on our family outings.).

I must say, even though he woke-up this morning incredibly uncharacteristically early with an exceedingly brief morning nap, the trip was a resounding success.  The zoo is a small, poorly funded city zoo, but the limited newer parts are quite nice.  We knew ahead of time almost the entirety of the children’s attractions were in the process of renovation; therefore, closed.  Why make the hour trip down chaotic streets?  Admission was half priced, which made the usually quite expensive affair worth the gamble to see if our son was old enough to appreciate the animal experience…He wasn’t, aside from the goats at the petting zoo.  But, doesn’t everyone love a goat?  I think, however, I may return alone in the near future; I’m pretty sure they charged us the kid’s rate for my admission ticket…Can we say knocked-up MILF pushing forty?

Even though nineteen-months-old proved a bit early for this type of trip, Little Man enjoyed himself thoroughly.  Sadly, the giraffe was vacationing in his winter home, which would have been thrilling for my son.  It’s the most consistent animal he points to whenever an image appears before him…He finds peacocks pretty groovy too, but I knew this zoo did not have them loitering and terrorizing visitors on the open walkways.

It’s almost December, but some of the animals were still available for the public’s view.  Mr. Man journeyed through each section saving his excitement for the random debris in the opposite direction from the exhibits.  It goes without saying that acorns cannot be found littered around our home…  A few rocks caught his attention as well…clearly rare excavations…  The stick he found became his companion for most of the day.  So integral was this playmate that I named it Montesquieu D. Stick.  Unfortunately Monty men an untimely demise after my son whacked him entirely too hard on a steel barrier outside the Condor exhibit.

My husband and I enjoyed the apes, especially the Silverback with the baby clutching his leg as he moved throughout the enclosure.  My son enjoyed the dirt in one of the potted plants.  He only perseverated on grabbing fistfuls of the soil until he noticed the drainage grating on the floor.  That, my friends, is why people go to zoos in the first place after all.  The following ten minutes were spent with my son surveying the floor in hopes of finding other coverings that have me wondering if his future profession will be in civil engineering…or Mike Rowe’s replacement for Dirty Jobs

My favorite moment of the afternoon was not watching my delighted son engross himself in their new and incredible playground structures.  I relished and absorbed every moment of him sitting on my lap for a bite to eat.  I was holding Little Man facing me on a bench outside, balancing his food container in my free hand.  My husband shared his apple with me, cutting up pieces and feeding me like the underage goddess I am.  My son pointed and was rewarded with a piece of apple that he wasted no time clutching in his small hands.  But, he didn’t want the apple for himself; he wanted to feed his Mommy who unselfishly donated her lap for the cause.  He also generously offered to feed me his food, which I graciously declined.  Midway though his meal I was rewarded with Little Man smooches on my cheek while my daughter fluttered slightly.  I ask you, is there anything better than family outings?

 

Kisses for the Masses

I’m reading books about siblings to my son.  One is particularly sweet, You Were the First.  Since it was presented to him, he’s wanted encore vocal enactments throughout the day and into the evening.  I’m not sure what about it he loves so much.  Perhaps it is the illustrations of the growing little boy, from a baby to a little man like him.  Maybe it’s because he understands some of the text…gesturing certain vocabulary words each time I read through the pages.

Sometimes he rests his head on me and listens quietly, particularly in the evening, only pointing to his belly at the designated part.  But, he always insists on some sort of cuddle when he chooses this particular story.

Today, however, Little Man demonstrated a new gesture.  The boy in the book was the first to blow kisses.  Mr. Man unmistakably lifts his beautiful hand to his mouth mimicking the gesture over and over, and as I push on, he flips back to the very page documenting his new skill.  I guess it’s important to be the big brother…

* * *

As a follow-up, this morning before beginning the text of the story, I opened the book to the cover page with an illustration of a swaddled baby boy.  My growing boy viewed the image and lifted his shirt, pointing to his belly.  Gold star for me; my son knows where babies come from and he is only eighteen-months-old!  Although, it might be the source of some confusion for anyone who never followed the Alien Nation series…

Kiss the Cook

A rare occurrence, but one I celebrate:  my son facing me on my lap gleefully enjoying the bouncing and squeezes of which I cannot seem to achieve saturation.  Without warning he dives into me with his beautiful mouth open as wide as he can muster; perhaps he wants to eat my face?  But, no, my initial assessment was incorrect; he is providing me with baby kisses.

They are unnecessarily wet and slimy, and seem to consume more circumference than what appears probable.  For what his kisses lack in substance, they make-up for in enthusiasm.  He goes on the offensive three, maybe four times before he loses his momentum.  My chilled cheek is all the remains of his demonstration of affection, and while i quickly wipe off the moisture that coats almost the entire side of my face, all I can do is hope for another urge to overtake him.

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