Not me

I most certainly did not attempt to take my darling princesses to a Breakfast With the Princesses in Reidsville at 8am on the morning following a day/night of a personal bout with Vicious GI Virus. With Jay out of town. And me on call. That seems like an awfully ambitious task that is essentially guaranteed to not go well, and I am always superb at recognizing my limitations. I did not give in to the polite request adamant refusal of my eldest regarding wearing a base layer beneath her scantily clad, cleavage revealing Sleeping Beauty costume. I also did not spend 15 minutes unsuccessfully searching the van for the second sock that was yanked off and tossed into the Bermuda Triangle of the Sock World that is our minivan by my youngest en route to said breakfast. I did not erroneously think that we could rush from our relatively close parking space to the warmth of the restaurant interior on this 20 degree morning, and thus conclude that Elle's insistence on leaving her coat in the car was a reasonable plan of action. Similarly, I did not also find the half-barefooted infant to be acceptably attired. Upon discovering that there was in fact a rather long and ever-growing line at the door, I did not weigh the benefits of getting out of the line to go back for coats and invisible socks against the cost of abandoning key position in the queue. I did not (erroneously) think the line would move quickly. Elle did not shiver. She did not refuse my offer to wrap her up in my coat, insisting that despite teeth-chattering frozenness, she was in fact just fine. She did not continue to shiver for the entirety of our time in line.  Elise had a coat, but I was on the fence as to whether it would be better to wear it properly or wrap the little bare foot up in it. She did not continuously kick the bare foot out of the jacket-sock I had fashioned. I did not look like the world's most horrific mother with her unsocked infant halfheartedly wrapped in a jacket and her nearly bare-chested, uncoated 4 year old version of Sleeping Beauty amongst all the other parents with children in full coat/scarf/mittens/toboggan winter weather regalia. I am not convinced that I am now the subject of small town gossip. We did not manage to make it inside without frostbite and ended up having an lovely time. But if you overhear a similar story in the Reidsville Walmart, tell them that mom's name was Stephanie*

*Being an identical twin has its perks. 

What we've been up to, in pictures

We've provided for the needs of others.

Made important calls.

Enjoyed  Tolerated a snow day walk with Dad.

Made a sour face.

And a happy face.

And many When-Does-The-Everything-Goes-Into-Your-Mouth-Stage-End faces

We dabbled in the arts.

We were tacky for Spirit Week at school.

Well, one of us was unusually tacky. The other was really indistinguishable from a Typical Day.

We breakfasted with princesses.

My plea for a base layer beneath the princess costume was resolutely vetoed. Hence the cleavage-bearing Sleeping Beauty...

We had our ups

And downs

One of 3 gastrointestinally compromised Golding girls. With Jay out of town. And me on call. Yahtzee!

We watched snowflakes

And fought over the last of the mussels

Don't get between this baby and her shellfish

We made Valentine's treats

It was only a matter of time before I superglued my fingers together

And made Mommy's day

We stayed busy, but made time for the ones we love.

And I vow yet again to improve the sporadic blog updating...

One.

Dearest Elise,

If I could somehow bottle up your infectious laughter, your melt-my-heart smiles, your sweet spirit, your easygoing nature, and your arms-flung-around-my-neck hugs, I feel certain the world would be overpopulated. Especially if I managed to filter out your penchant for not-quite-sleeping-through-the-night. Oh, baby of mine, how can you possibly be ONE? This year has absolutely flown by-- and what an incredible 365 days it has been watching you grow and seeing your personality develop.

You continue to be pretty laid back and content, although this not infrequently requires me holding you. I'm happy to oblige, as I know all too soon you'll be too big for me to hold. You're a thinker. You love books and music. Whether it's jazz during dinner, Beastie Boys blaring in the garage, or I'm-a-little-teapot emanating from your toy, whenever you hear music you stop what you're doing and start bouncing up and down or swaying back and forth (depending on the beat, of course). You always smile and look up at me to make sure I'm watching your moves.

At one year, you are a bit smaller than your sister, weighing in at 20lbs 6oz and 28 inches. You're tough, handling your one-year shots with a short-lived yelp and a scrunched up face. Then back to your happy self, working the crowds with your Miss America wave and million dollar smile.

You continue to have quite the gourmet palate. You loved mussels, clams, and shrimp, noshed on smoked salmon and goat cheese, and routinely eat most veggies. You're not a huge fan of tomatoes, but I haven't found much else that you will turn down. You loved your first taste of sugar in the form of your birthday cupcake, but honestly I've seen you get just as excited over butternut squash.

Birthday cupcakes

Snowman party favors

In the rare moments of quiet between your sister's incessant narrative, you say "Dada", "Mama", "Dat" (referring to the object of your affection, accompanied by a pointing index finger), and "Oh-oh" (uh-oh). You love peek-a-boo, and will hold your jacket or blanket over your face until I join in the game.

Not sure if this is elation or terror. It's a fine line anyway...

You pull up to standing, cruise along furniture, and walk with assistance, but no independent steps yet. You are quite the daredevil, and I often find you perched atop objects without any clear indication of how you made it up there. You are a pro at climbing up the stairs, and mischievously check to see if I'm looking before you make a run crawl for it. You are amazingly dexterous, and can pick up microscopic things and put them into precise locations. Including, of course, your mouth.

You usually take two naps a day (at home, more like zero at daycare), and go down with minimal protest. At bedtime, I am so thankful that most of the time you smile up at me when I lay you down and kiss you goodnight. Bedtime is around 7pm and you still are fond of waking up between 4:30 and 5:30. It is becoming increasingly hard to get you back to sleep. This is a work in progress. Weaning is going slowly-- you have done great with cow's milk during the day but are hanging on to your pre-bedtime and early morning nursing session. You've seemed less interested in the last several days so I suspect these won't last much longer.

I have mixed emotions about you turning one. I am so excited to watch you grow and explore the world with you as a toddler. But, always one for nostalgia, I will miss your baby-hood. Before you were born, I had this irrational fear that I wouldn't be able to love another human being as much as I love your sister. But my heart apparently doubled (or tripled or quadrupled) in size with a giant atrioventricular annex just for you. You bring more joy to our lives than I could have possibly imagined. I have so many memories of your first year, but I hope that if you remember one thing, it is how very much you are loved. And you are so, so loved my little one. We are so blessed to be your family. Happy birthday, my sweet Elise.

Love,
Mommy, Daddy, and Elle

Elle-isms

Providing vocals for one of the wisemen while playing with the nativity over Christmas: "Mary! Mary! Your Baby Jesus keeps eating my myrhh!"

Me: Goodnight sweetheart.

Elle: But Mommy, you can't go! There's something wrong with my bed!
Me: What's wrong with your bed?

E: It doesn't feel as good without you in it. 

Also at Christmas, out to eat while admiring the restaurant's decorations: "I just love Brixx this time of year!"

Always traveling in the opposite direction of life's giant arrow

Teaching Elise how to walk: No, no. Like this (demonstrating). Up on your two paws. 

Me: Elle, can you please go put on your socks and shoes.

E: Consider it done.

Grocery shopping with me in the pouring rain. I left the cart under the awning and took Elle to the car so I could load the groceries without getting totally soaked. While getting in her car seat and pulling out of the parking space, "I'm keeping an eye on our groceries so no one takes them. There's villains in this world, y'know."

Nearing Christmas, E approaches me with a guilty expression: "Mommy, is there a list for kids who have been mostly nice but just a little bit naughty?"

E: Mommy, can I spend the night with Grace for five hundred days?

Me: Five hundred days? I would miss you so much!
E: No, no, not 500 days in a row. Like a pattern. Our house, Gracie's house. Our house, Gracie's house....

In church, Elle quietly playing with pipe cleaners from the Activity Bag. Jay whispers (with accompanying gestures): Make me a ring?

E, obviously misunderstanding, replies in a shocked and completely non-whispering tone: No, Dad! I will NOT pull your finger in church!

Hair Salon

Welcome to my hair salon, little one. 

How about this lovely bow?

You're going to look fabulous.

Now, just hold still. 

I said, Hold still.

Perfect.