Separation Anxiety

When Ayla & Anson were born, part of me was sad because I had caused them to be separated. All they had even known was to be warm and snuggled up together, and yet here they were, out in the big, crewel world and SEPARATED. 

When we got home from the hospital, they slept in a rocking cradle in my room together. It was right next to my bed so that I could reach my fingers in and pat them as they fell asleep. I could reach over and scoop them up when they cried in the night.

Soon they grew too big to both fit in the cradle. It was time for them to move into their own room. The trouble was it was on the other side of the house. I took comfort in going in and looking at them still nestled into one crib, still having each other, even if their Mommy was practically in a different zipcode.





Eventually, history repeated itself and they became too big to share a crib. They were sleeping restlessly and kicking one another. Putting them into 2 cribs did not break my heart too much because they are right next to each other and they enjoyed the freedom to roll around in their own space while still keeping an eye on the other. The great joy of my mornings was waking up to the sounds of them talking to each other and practicing their words together, throwing blankets and toys overboard and laughing together.

Now, the time has come for them to go into their own rooms. I always knew that I wanted this step to happen before I started getting "gender questions" and I thought that, like most things, I would "just know" when the time was right. Well, that time is now. There are important transitions afoot - Anson is still taking a binky at night and I would like him to stop, but it seems unfair to subject Ayla to his crying. Ayla is showing curiosity about the potty. With potty training comes the realization that she and brother are plumbed differently. It's just time.

The thought of my little loves being this grown up chokes me up.

A Good Drill

The batteries were drained before he was. He knew. I remember him saying something to me about needing to get new ones. Of course that, along with everything else, took a back seat when he started feeling sick.

It really didn't matter much until lately, because I didn't need to use his drill. I have an old corded one, and it was getting me by okay. Tools were one of the things that we combined and kept duplicates when we got married. Because can you really have too many screwdrivers? Nope.

After the um-teenth time of dragging that old thing out and looking for the extension cord that I distinctly remember buying at the 99cent store when I was 19, I'd had it. I put the batteries for Tim's drill in my car and added replacing them to my to-do list.

Today, after weeks of hearing them roll around under my seat, the kids and I went to Home Depot to pick up a few things, including the replacement batteries. Their double cart didn't have seat belts, but that didn't stop us. Ayla sat in the seat of a regular cart and Anson manned the basket. Even though he had to be constantly reminded to stay seated. Even though she started crying. Even though he wanted to launch his sippy cup at every opportunity.

A helpful employee approached as I stood dumbfounded in the tool corral. (That is what they call it, right?) Obviously a dad, he started asking questions and fetching sippy cups. (3 kids, for the record... all boys. One still using a sippy cup.) What were the batteries for? (A drill. And another thing that is in the box with the drill.) Was it purchased at Home Depot? (I'm not sure.) How long ago was it purchased? (Um, I'm not sure....) Is it your drill? (No. Yes. Well, it was my husband's drill. He passed away. It is probably 10 years old or so. It's my drill now and the batteries won't hold a charge and I am ready to use it, so I need it to work.)

These are the conversations that get weird. There are things I don't bother telling people who don't need to know. When strangers in stores approach me about the kids and say "your husband must be so proud!" I just nod and assure them he is. When people ask what my husband does for work, I just tell them he is a detective. It only makes them feel awkward for trying to be friendly if I tell them the whole truth. So I feel okay telling half-truths.

Helpful Employee told me he was sorry and set off on his personal mission to make all things right in my power-tool world. As it turned out, they no longer carry replacement batteries for the drill. He looked online until he found them for us and even scampered off to find 2 toy hammers that he gave to A&A as a gift. (A little brand placement in early childhood is always good, right?)

That guy made my day better.

And I know that Tim would be happy that I found batteries for the drill rather than getting a new drill. As he would say, "It's a good drill".

Desk Project

I have started to think about what will happen when I split the kids' rooms. Right now we have an office and a guest room. I knew I would have to forego one of these well-used rooms, and the idea of moving the computer and filing cabinet and the like into our master bedroom did not appeal to me in the least. I don't like electronics of any kind in there: no TV, no computer, no distractions. We had thought those days of blinking computer lights in the night were behind us when we moved from my tiny townhouse.

A little bit of reading Real Simple magazine (my guilty pleasure) and looking at Pinterest.com got the wheel in my mind turning. This was one of my many "Inspiration" photos:

I decided to move the guest room into what is now the office and convert the closet in that room into my office. The closet in there is nothing special - just your builder-grade sliding door closet.

We had many of the elements that I would be using on hand, but they would need a little face-lift. Thankfully my parents owned a hardware store when I was little, so I am pretty fearless about tackling little projects. I am also far too cheap to buy new things when I think I can re-use, re-finish or re-purpose what I already have. (This was one of Tim's favorite things about me.)

6 cans of spray paint, one gallon of turquoise paint and many busy nap times while the babies were sleeping later, I am pleased with the result.

I still need to paint the rest of the room and move the guest room in here. There will be white curtains on the windows and matching curtains that can be closed to hide the "office" from guests, but I feel a sense of satisfaction that I have gotten it this far.

The payoff is that Ayla & Anson will each have their own room when the time is right, and Ayla will even have a little walk-in closet - every girl's dream, right?

Every time I accomplish something, every time I do something Tim would be proud of me for, I can hear him saying, "That looks great, babe! You're awesome. I love you." It makes me feel a little more like myself again.