I’m getting used to this two child household. For the most part, we can get out of the door in the morning, get things straightened up, get one child to sleep in her bed and one to sleep in his pack n’ play (he’s a 1/2lb a way from being evicted from the bassinet insert). But there are moments. Moments where they cry in duet. Moments where one needs something and I’m up to my elbows in the other one’s poo/pee/vomit/ear ooze.
This evening we were having a moment–well, junior was having a moment, and MAM was flitting around the house, not really sure what to do. She happened upon my jewelry box, which interests her greatly.
She opened the box that holds the jewelry from my junior prom.
“What’s this called?” she asks, as she gently twists the delicate strand of pearls.
“Those are called pearls.”
“OH! I like pearls. Pearls make me happy!”
She finds the pendant I got for eighth grade graduation, “Look! Numbers! 7! 8!” (that would be ’87)
She finds the petite diamond ring, which belonged to my great aunt as a child. It’s just slightly loose on her finger.
“Oh dat is very pretty!” she exclaimed.
She finds all of my “scholarship” pins from high school, and takes them out of their little boxes.
She finds the beaded necklace with the pendant of a little girl made from beads that was my mom’s –from another great aunt, I think.
She finds the cameo necklace that I wore when I was a flower girl in 1978.
She finds the collection of brooches that were my grandmother’s, ones that I wore in high school (on my collection of vests, of course) all the time.
She finds the birthstone necklace of mine from my aunt that I’ve had for as long as I can remember, along with the teddy bear birthstone pin I remember getting in junior high.
She finds the pearl bracelet from our wedding day. The pearl earrings from my second Mother’s day. The sapphire pendant from my 30th birthday.
I start telling stories, she listens and explores intently, and junior stops fussing so darn much.
These are the moments from which memories are made.