Of Food and Love romalise: growing up romalise two year old
by Mommy Hobbies
In my napsack stash
I’m so glad that I blog about my children. Because, honestly, I think I might forget half of their wonderful little antics. They grow so fast and I mix my memories. “Did Cy do such and such or was that Roma?” Up until recently, I could not have told anyone exactly what my little girl was like. She was just a little parrot of her brother. He loves blocks. She loves blocks. He loves soldiers. She loves soldiers. He loves peeing on the driveway. She loves peeing on the driveway. (this is true) My children were just a symbiotic little unit, no distinguishing features of their own really…they just worked together, round and round. Until a couple weeks ago…
My children are SO alike and SO different it’s scary. I catch myself shaking my head in disbelief, wondering how someone so little and full of life came from my womb. Cy, as we all know, is a stick of dynamite with turbo thrusters. And now, as you will all soon discover, Roma is emerging as my sneaky, determined, self-sufficient, spunky little weeping willow. I call her a weeping willow because this girl can throw on the waterworks! If I even raise my eyebrow at her funny, she is in tears. Sometimes it’s hard to punish her because she’s so cute. She will slump her shoulders and hang her head, the lower lip pops out and the tears flow. She whimpers and sniffles and I’m standing there in the middle of her performance gripped with emotion. Yes. Moved, quite nearly, to tears myself. Little actress, who in the next breath will whip around, and change the subject mid wail. I.lie.not. Then, like a little princess she will ask for a tissue for her “eyeths”. (she has a lisp, just like Cy does) She will dab at her eyes until the tears are gone and quickly move on with her life. Just like that.
Several times I’ve caught her in the fridge and I don’t just mean, the fridge door is open and she’s standing there, I mean. IN.the.fridge. She is tucked in, with the door almost complete shut, sucking down Cy’s school drinks. Her eyes are red-rimmed because she’s hardly catching a breath. She knows that those are not to be touched, so she’s drinking it as fast as she possibly can. Or, I’ve caught her under the bed, my packet of gum in her hand, furiously stuffing pieces into her mouth, wide-eyed, chomping madly. Last night, she came into the front room and shoved her head under the couch pillows and was happily munching on apples. We have a strict no eating anywhere other than the kitchen rule, here.
But aside from her spunky behavior she is also very aware and concerned for others. I stubbed my toe the other day and was grumbling my woes she came to me and asked if I was “ok, mama? you ok?” So sweet. She cries if Cylas cries… although she doesn’t even know what she’s crying about! She laughs if Cy laughs and he’ll bark at her sometimes, “Roma! Why are you laughing? You don’t even know!” She likes her privacy in the bathroom, “mama, you goway pleasth.” But you can be sure I’m standing outside the door to make sure our whole roll of toilet paper doesn’t end up in the toilet, on the floor or in various other places.
My sweet, sweet baby girl. She’ll be three this month and I wonder where her babyness has gone off to. I catch glimpses every now and then, but she’s slowly leaving that world behind. “No” is a the new spotlighted vocab word along with “Oh, commonnn” and “because, whyyy”. Who are you? And what did you do with my baby??