Waiting

We are ready:

...for some Christmas chaos.

WWJD?

Merry Christmas Eve!

In Line Entertainment

Big, Little and I were in line at the post office for a good long while yesterday.  These are the thoughts going through their heads five days before Christmas. Not "what am I getting?". Not "what are we going to do?" Not even "Why do we have to wait in this line for so long?". Nope. No such luck.  We got:
1. Where does boys' poop come out?
2. Where is a mermaid's vagina?
3. Why boys have a penis but girls have a vagina?
4. Do mermaids wipe underwater?

Then we get the two year old announcing: "Little Sister have penis?" No, you are a girl.  You don't have a penis. "Little Sister want penis like Tiny Man."

Needless to say, I did not raise my eyes to see any response around us.  Just answered the questions and got out of there as soon as I could.

The Bandaid Bandit

Big Sister is obsessed with bandaids.  Thinks she should have one for every little "boo boo" on her body.  However, she knows the motto: No blood, no bandaid.

Big Sister does not like the motto.

So, she gets her sympathy elsewhere. Last week, she came out of her caseworker's office with a bandaid on a (nonexistent) cut. She was upset that our caseworker only had plain bandaids, not princess ones.

At a Christmas party the other day, she showed me the teeeeeeeniest cut. "I need a bandaid." "No blood, no bandaid, silly."  Then she pressed her finger onto her white tights, creating the teeeeeeeniest red dot.  "See? There's blood." "hm, not enough for a bandaid though."

The party went on and chaos ensued (in the form of vomit from one of the kids). After leaving the room to take care of that, I came out to find a Little Pet Shop bandaid on someone's finger. Hmmmm.

Apparently, not everyone has the same motto and Sister lucked out.

It Was a Very Good Year

They came up the walk exactly one year ago. One vomiting, one scratching.  One with chin length hair, one with hardly any hair at all. Neither sleeping through the night.  Fast forward one year later, no one's vomiting or scratching. There's much more hair to comb.  We get way more sleep than we used to.

And we're still having fun.

I love these sisters. Have loved watching them grow and learn and discover. I love seeing them have fun.  I love getting hugs and kisses, hearing them shout Mommy from across the playground, and knowing that they know I am here.  I love that this is our little family, GG and Tiny Guy included, for as much longer as they are here.

M-O-M

The one who dragged her feet the longest in choosing what to call me left me this on the kitchen counter the other night.  I didn't even have to tell her how to spell it.

Let's Talk About the Important Stuff

In a therapy conversation with one girl who doesn't talk much to the therapist. Therapist says something like: Is there anything you want to talk about? Kiddo says, very bashfully: "Uh-huh. Yesterday, I wore (other girl's) princess undies because Mommy put them in the wrong drawer. And I knew she didn't see me."

At dinner a couple of nights ago, I was laying out some changes regarding visitation schedules with bio parents. Pretty big changes.  Changes that a few months ago would have rocked our world.  "Do you have any questions?" I ask one girl. "Yeah.  Why is the cream cheese on my bagel kind of messy, Mama?"

I love the way these girls' minds work!