Girly things.

Eleanor:



Knows all of her colors.

Sleeps in "Princess Olive FlipFlips" and "jommies."

Jumps when she tantrums.

Has the longest hair on a two year old. Ever.

Still loves to read. Or be read to. Both.

Is really excellent at drawing circles and coloring.

Sings songs about people we know.

Loves "Baby Jogi."

Looks like a kid on "Toddlers in Tiaras."

Jams on the guitar.

Actually runs fast.

Is terrified of cars, knives, and fire. (I plan to keep it that way.)

Is so freaking fancy.


Josephine:

Is still called Jogi (soft g).

Loves to sit and play, as long as mommy or daddy are in sight.

Has zero teeth.

Can't crawl yet, but flips and rolls and scoots to get wherever she wants.

Ate cut up mango for the first time tonight.

Says "Mama" and whatever else she says that is way less cool than that.

Loves bananas.

Listens to Daddy play guitar - and calms down.

Still loves a good screaming fit.

Does not like loud noises.

Is as dramatic as her sister.

Update as of 18 hours later - Josephine can sit up in her crib.

I knew they wouldn't sleep...

...but I put the girls in their beds anyway. Eleanor is at that age when naps are not a "must" (she and I could debate this topic - I am adamant about them, but she won't fall asleep any old place anymore). And, Josephine is a complete silence type of sleeper. We were out during nap time and Josephine is working through a virus, so when we got home, I just plopped them in their beds. Right now, they are yelling back and forth and Eleanor is yelling "Pull down, Baby! Pull down!" What does that mean? I am terrified to find out.

Here is a transcription of what's going on right now. "Horsey baby. Tell mommy. Tell mommy again. Daddy. Poop. Look, baby, try it. Help. Mommy. Ride the horsey. Ride it. Help, baby. Mommy! Mommy! Woke up baby. (Laughter. Silence.) Scared. Scared horsey. Hi, baby. Happy. Sad. Happy. Happy. Horsey. Cop. Top. Top. Top. Horsey, too. Bite. Happy self. Trouble. Share. Me. Baby. Cow - cow again! Help. Hi baby. Pee pees. Horsey wipe. Toys! Toys. Baby, Jojo, horsey. Baby - look up! Help - elbow fell down. WATCH OUT!"

Ok, I just realized that I need to find something better to do during "nap" time.

Rainbow Brite.

Eleanor has begun rolling her R's in a really exaggerated way. So, when she wakes up in the morning asking for Rainbow Brite, she sounds like she has a Russian accent. It's adorable. So, this morning, I acquiesced.

Dino-roars and "Mama" (not "mama").

Josephine screams like a cheerful little raptor.

And, I know that 7 month olds say "mama." I know it's not because she knows me, loves me, thinks I am the greatest. (But, we all know she does.) But, sometimes, just sometimes, I think she may mean it. My reasons?

She only says it to me, while she says other things all the time.

She looks at me/for me when she says it. (Although she also says it when she's upset. Which I think is the same thing, because when she is sad she loves me most of all.)

She's a genius. (Evidenced by the fact that she will also give kisses.)

Addendum.

And then, when the snot and tears go away, Josephine's perfect snuggling and Eleanor's beautiful hilarity remain. That's all. It's a complicated humanity, isn't it?

If you get five minutes...

...listen to this song from my Sophie Salome playlist. I did today. And, I must have needed a good cry. Because I just let it go. I just let myself cry and miss. And, it still hurts so [expletive] bad. I can't explain it. It's like this futile silent scream that needs to come out. It's crying that won't change anything and it won't make it better and it won't go away. And, sometimes, in these moments, I wonder if it hurts more now. Out here, on this island of missing. In almost four years, friends have moved, gotten married, gotten divorced, had children. Family has morphed and grown. People stop wondering if I'm ok, and most days I am. Most people stop mentioning her entirely. I've snagged at moments to bring her up, but eventually I've loosened my grip on well-meaning loved ones and let the chances go by, even though they break my heart all over again. Even the imagining has drifted away, like so much sand in an hourglass. Like trying to find a memory. I have filled back up with light and life and laughter. Life simply does go on. You can dig your heels in, beg it to stop, wish for the time before you knew heartbreak. But, that's just not the way it works.

So, what would be better? Holding her. Never having felt this literal agony. Kissing her soft skin again. Dancing with her baby-ness. Singing to her. Watching her grow. Showing her to the people I love.

There are no memories I can create with her. So, I will create memories with Eleanor and Josephine. I will let them fill me up. I will try to be more patient. I will be kind to Bill. I will laugh easily. I will try to be wise and listen more. I will wait quietly. I will make beautiful memories and bring her along in my heart.

In fact, I did something a few weeks ago that was just that. I'll start four years ago. Just a few weeks before Sophie's due date, Tracy Chapman was coming to town. We decided not to buy tickets, thinking I might go into labor or have had sweet Soph and miss the concert. So, when she passed away, I regretted so deeply not having taken her to this concert. And, having felt her kicking away while listening to these songs. So, when Tracy came back around, Bill's sister Maura suggested we see her. (Maura, by far, is the most unabashed Sophie-lover I know. She makes my heart so happy with the little things she doesn't know I notice. But, Maura, I notice.) So, we loaded up the car (with me, Bill, Maura, and Tom) and took a roadtrip to see Tracy. This was the only song I needed to hear. The entire concert went by and she hadn't played it. The encore began with another song. Then, they decided to play one final song. And, there it was. The audience was silent*. The theatre was dark. And, she just played her heart out. It wasn't for me. It wasn't for Bill, or Maura, or Sophie. But, I cried, just like I am now. And, it was wonderful.



*except for the fools behind us, but that's another post.

It's HOT.

Like, literally. It's over 90 degrees. Well, screw you, August. The Baylys have made a stand. NO AIR CONDITIONING! We have not turned it on all Summer. Not once. And, we are not planning on it. We plan on languishing in our underpants. Sweating. Drinking a lot of water. Playing in the basement. Running lots of errands. And, staying out of the kitchen for just a few more weeks.

Midnight Train...to the beach.

Eleanor and Jackson.

Baking Cookies with Eyes and Smiles.

So, for the record, I never coslept.

And, do you know why? Because for the life I me, I could not figure out how to get the side of the blasted cosleeper into cosleeping mode. And, sure, I brought the girls into bed with me at 5 am after long newborn nights of wailing. But, I am way too much of a nervous nelly to want them in bed with me all night. So, I basically used the cosleeper as a bassinet. I registered for and received it when I was pregnant with Sophie. It was set up in our room at the College Park house for months. When Eleanor was born healthy and (mostly) happy, out it came. And, she slept there for four months. Young Josephine was in and out of it until she was six months old, and pulling herself out of it. Haha. And, Josephine will almost certainly be our last baby. So, before we left for the beach, I took some sad-for-me-silly-for-them pictures of the girls in the cosleeper. And, then, my heart hurt as I put it away.

Baylys at Bethany Beach.