My children amaze me, everyday. I never thought I wanted my babies to be this close in age, never planned on this, but life changed my mind.
It really is literally indescribable, how much I love my babies, but I will try to do so, after all, this whole blog thing is for my babies. So that they might know one day, maybe when I am gone, how very much they filled my life with love, happiness, and a desire to give up everything I ever thought I wanted in life, to watch them enjoy theirs.
I never understood. I couldn't. How a mother could become hypnotized by a toddler's babbling lips, the blue crescendo of a newborn's eyes, the glow of satiny skin that disappears into deep crevices of soft flesh, only to mound up again into hill after hill of chubbiness. The effortless beauty and innocence of a child. Absolute perfection, so far from what I have become, so much potential in this little life.
I long to replicate the feeling of the all consuming embrace of warmth I felt the first time Jada's sweet, chubby face curled into a smile so big her eyes disappeared beneath folds of soft, smooth brown flesh and her little noise wrinkled up into her downy forehead. Her black-brown hair refused to stop at her forehead, and grows sparingly, but steadily down her face, combining into her eyebrows and connecting her temples. The small swirl atop her brow, a genetic gift from her auntie. The way I have to slide my hand up to the knuckles under her chin to reach her neck..another signature of my Italian family. My husband's genetic contribution, a completely contented personality, and one very distinct eyebrow that rises slightly only to give way to a concave curve, rise up to the summit of the brow and crash down again. Only hers is on the opposite side of her father's, so they match up as they face each other. Incredible.
The way my children came from the same two people, and can be so completely different. Di has translucent skin, so light I can trace the paths of her veins from head to toe. The one trait from my bloodline, a quirky pinky toenail that grows straight up from the tip of her toe, just as my mother's does. That nail is impossible to paint. She is going to hate that nail when she's older...I will always love it. Her wispy blond hair, so fine and feathery that no clip or ponytail holder can manage to contain it for more than a minute. Her hair rejects all accessories and styling efforts, curling and twisting in different directions and ways throughout the day. I don't have the heart to cut it, even a little bit. I want to let it be free and wild and natural, as she is. Her blue eyes actually taper to brown at the border of the pupil, spiral out in flecks of yellow and green to the sapphire border of her iris. The whites of her eyes are blue tinged as well, and the corners turn down, which certainly works to her advantage when asking her parents for a treat.
J's eyes are blue as well, but distinctly different. The blue is lighter in the center, without a trace of any other color, and light, early morning sky blue which ascends and descends simultaneously around her inquisitive pupils to a thick, deep sapphire ring. That ring holds her big eyes in place beneath her slanted, almond lids. I get lost in her eyes. The way she stares at me, and returns my admiring gaze with a huge, toothless grin. She even stops suckling on me for a moment or two just to let me know she sees my face, she smiles at me and I know, despite the fact that it will be many months before she and I can converse in a traditional sense, these moments are our very first mother daughter "talks".
Pretty basic. Me: "I love you baby, you make my world everything I could ever want, and I can't believe you are my baby"
Her: "I like boob".
They astound me. Every moment of my day. How much I can love, how happy I can feel, how little you really need to make life worth living. How they can fulfill my life to absolute completeness and contentment. How they could replace any other dreams and aspirations I ever had, because they are more than enough to satisfy any aspect of my life. I could give up eating and be nourished with their smiles and laughter. (Well...for a few minutes, anyway). I could give up television and internet and be perpetually entertained by their antics, they way they eat food, read books and interact with each other. Of course, my children sleep, and I do not find my husband eating quite as intriguing, so I utilize the DVR nightly.
"Love" doesn't seem strong enough. I can't replicate with a word the warmth, the joy that effervesces from every part of my body when my baby laughs with me, or my big girl asks to hold her sister, or kisses her when she thinks I am not looking. When her baby sister cries and the look on her face is pure concern as she rushes to her sister's aide, not a hint of annoyance or irritation. Just love. "Amazed" doesn't ignite nearly the same feeling I get as I stare at them, asking myself and them, "you do that? when did you learn to do that? Are you really mine?" Even photographs, they do not do my babies justice. A moment, captured, still forever and even that, it can't give me the same feelings I get when I hold them, smell them, feel their skin on mine, their hair in my nose. I need to memorize them, they way they smile so purely, from only joy, not obligation. They way they smell of natural sweetness, like a breeze on a summer night, not of perfumes or colognes. They way they are so breath-takingly beautiful, without a touch of makeup, hair dye or skin product. They way they are perfect people, who use their bodies for what they are designed for and don't question any of it. The way they live recklessly and love unconditionally.
My children have so very much to teach me.
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