While I was feeding Remi a bit ago, the girls took it upon themselves to very quietly cut open most of the Sweet n' Low packets, EmergenceC, and tea bags from the cupboard and then dump them together with water in a very sweet and fizzy soup. With great restraint, I called my husband and ask if he could kindly take the girls away from the house before I went ballistic -- he came right over. I'm sure he'll return soon and say, "They were perfect for me." In the meantime, Remi and I had a few moments to ourselves.
I thought it was an urban legend when I was pregnant with a boy. But moms kept telling me, over and over, that I would feel differently about my son than my daughters. "It's a special bond," they would say and I assumed they were sipping some hormonal soup. How could I "feel differently" about one gender to another?
From the moment I looked into Emma's eyes, and then Mandy's, I felt an identity to them; I was inspired to teach them everything I knew about being a woman; I felt I knew them from the moment I met them because they were like me; they would be cutely dressed in outfits I secretly wished came in my size; they would wrap their daddy around little fingers, just like I did with my dad. The girls and I have great fun together, but I am immune to their tricks of manipulation and defiance because I've been there -- done that 25-30 years ago (okay, maybe 25-30 minutes ago). Then Remington arrived and I fell in love with him in a completely different way than my girls. I am in awe of this baby boy -- I'm completely taken with him. Maybe it is because he looks just like his daddy...
Or maybe it is because Remi already seems to adore me. Sure, I'm his meal ticket, but the way he looks into my eyes, I think he is just as smitten with me as I am with him. Snuggling with him is even pleasant in the middle of the night. He is P-R-E-C-I-O-U-S.