A mother wears many hats and I fancy myself the amateur historian for our family. Though Nitin has a better memory for most things. But I am aware that our children may have questions someday about what life was like during the pandemic, so I feel inclined to jot down a few notes. These are also their childhoods, minus the ordinary childhood experiences that require leaving the house. I write some posts thinking that they may read them when they are eleven, eighteen, etc. I write some posts wondering if I will ever allow the children to read them. Many are a mix. Today may be a mix.
Ellie turned three and a half on May 23rd and we celebrated with sprinkle pancakes and balloons, which she loves. She is articulate and observant, unusually so, I think, for a child her age. She draws well and keeps company with a menagerie of stuffies who have lively conversations with each other and her, misbehave, are scolded, and are squeezed, ferociously and lovingly, by Ellie. Ellie delights in muddy puddles and if a mess is her idea, it is a great joy to her. Accidental stains on clothing, however, are a vexation, and she is very fastidious and sensitive about unexpected blotches on tshirts and dresses. She is not all one thing. She watches the grown ups around her carefully. We we are not nearly as careful in his we speak and behave around her. So she asks me, likely sensing the rift between me and Nitin's mom, whether I love Nani. She announces to Nitin one evening, "You love mommy, but not a lot." She has mapped the emotional life of the family very thoughtfully. Of course she has. Children are natural students. She is learning her own story, which begins with the story of her family. She draws pictures of us with mouthes that straight flat lines, which Nitin thinks I read too much into.
Thankfully, we seem to excel as parents more than we do as spouses. (Though squabbling and sniping in front of our kids surely limits the extent to which we excel as parents.) Nitin has organized over a dozen creative science experiments for Ellie while we have been sheltering away from the germs. We have both baked and cooked with Ellie, stirring batter for waffles and pancakes, kneading dough for Focacia, assembling many "mezze" plates per Ellie's precise instructions. She eats well and always asks for a treat. Her favorite treats are ice cream in a cone, which she is permitted every other day, and various creations involving Nutella.
These days she is happiest outdoors, tromping around in the yard or the garden, or working on art projects inside. She asks for snuggles, or a huggy and a kissy, when she is feeling fragile. She refers to Nitin, who reads to her at night, as her bedtime partner. I could write for ages about Ellie. I see myself in her, though I know I should be careful not to project, and I also know the comparison will horrify her one day. Still. What she becomes will be her own. In these pandemic days, we have both more and less to give to both children. We spend much more time together but Ellie especially is keenly aware of our wandering attention as we tend to many roles and tasks. I especially want to be better about jotting down the things Ellie says. She sees the world very clearly, in her way, and surprises me with his clearly she can tell us what she sees.
And Myles. Goodness, being the second child. He eats the leftovers from Ellie's lunch off her plate. He is wearing a Thomas the train shirt passed down from Emma and then Ellie. And I do not know if it is because he came second, but he is more easygoing. He is already more adept at hiding places than Ellie. He completely conceals himself at the back of his closet and he is so patient while he waits there, standing still. I do not know if Ellie has ever done that. She hides in plain sight and then demands to be found immediately! Myles is very playful in this game -- he pops his head out very slowly and if you make eye contact with him, he jerks back, squealing. Rinse and repeat. He really loves to play, and he is in on the joke.
Myles also loves to bop to music, whether playing from a speaker or on his little (inherited) portable radio. I remember how slim he was when he arrived and absolutely marvel at his appetite these days. He will kill two grilled cheese sandwiches no problem. Then he wants more milk. He has also charmed Zoe, who seems to consider him the puppy she never had, and does not mind him climbing all over her and then cuddling up to snuggle. It helps that as much as he loves to eat, he delights in sharing his meals with Zoe.
Myles is also being into mischief these days. He never saw a toilet bowl he did not wish to splash in. He runs full speed to the tub and climbs right in. (My goodness, how he climbs. Such a climber.) He might casually walk over with a bottle of Purrel in his mouth. He did not plan to drink it, he was just pointing out that once again, you had lost track of him. I worry that he spends too much time in his play pen. He cannot roam freely unless one of us watches him like a hawk. And of course, there is no music class, playdate, story hour at the library. So it is an interesting time and place to be a one year old.
That is all for now. They are awake. So many things left to write, but the overarching theme is that there is just so little time right now.
