morning coffee.

I hear the doorknob rattle as I’m about to get in the shower. I hear your baba say, “Mabel! Bù! Mama xǐzǎo!” (He’s protective of my time alone and I appreciate that.) I hear you say something about coffee and then the doorknob rattles again. I walk over and open the door, see you standing there holding a little red cup. “Coffee, Mama! Put it here,” pointing to the spot where your baba leaves my coffee every morning.

I thank you and tell you I can’t wait to drink it. You smile and close the door.

Later, while I’m washing my hair, I hear you asking your baba, “Whatchu doin’?! No! I made Mama coffee!” He fibs and tells you he’s making coffee for himself.

I get out of the shower and find two cups of coffee waiting for me. How lucky I am to be loved by you both. Who knew morning coffee could convey so much?

so it begins.

On Sunday evening Mabel was playing with her toy kitchen, Clarke was on the floor nearby, and T & I were cooking and cleaning in the kitchen.

All of a sudden I heard Clarke crying his, "I'm hurt!" cry. (Yes, there are different kinds of cries and I recognize them all.) I spun around and saw Mabel shutting the door of her kitchen on Clarke's hand (dude can't crawl but he manages to get around quickly). I yelled, "Mabel! Stop!" and ran over to scoop Clarke up. As I inspected his fingers to make sure they weren't broken, I told Tony, "She just shut the door on his hand!"

Mabel was looking up at us and said, in a matter of fact (and maybe slightly proud) voice, "His head, too!"

Clarke had already stopped crying so Tony and I worked hard not to burst out laughing. That was when Tony said, "Shit! Look at his face!" Poor Clarke had a red line running down his cheek and a red spot on his head. He also had a diaper full of poop, so T took him to the bedroom to check him over and change his diaper.

I asked Mabel why she closed the door on him (thinking maybe it was an accident), and she said angrily, "He was playin' in my kitchen!"

She followed me into the bedroom and climbed up on the bed beside me while I nursed Clarke. I explained to her in a firm voice that it's not okay to hurt her brother, that she should tell him when she doesn't like what he's doing, and she can tell us too so we can help. Then I softened a little and explained that she's the big sister and he thinks she's cool and that her toys are cool and wants to play with her. I told her that it would be nice of her to play with him and share her toys sometimes, but she doesn't have to all the time.

I also told Clarke that if he wants to play with his sister's toys, he should ask first.*

Mabel leaned over and kissed Clarke, saying, "Sorry, Didi." Then she "read" us a story (looking at an old greeting card from a friend that she had been carrying around all afternoon): "My brother was playin' in me kitchen and I hurt him and said I'm sorry..."

I looked at T and smiled, "So it begins. There will be a lot more of this in our future—the good and the bad."

Notice that Mabel can play with Clarke's toys? ;) She often says, "He share with me!"

Do you have any tips for parenting siblings?

*I realize that Clarke can't talk yet and won't understand when Mabel tells him to stop, but he will soon enough. It's important to me that even while they are young, we are modelling the behaviour that we hope to encourage. I also want Mabel to feel respected and see that we are holding Clarke accountable for his actions, just like we do her. Of course, we also explain to her that he's still a baby and doesn't understand yet, but it's our job to teach him.

christmas cookies!

In last year's Christmas package, my mom sent Christmas cookie cutters, red and green sprinkles, and the recipe for the cookies we made every Christmas while I was growing up (and sometimes Valentine's Day and Easter, too). Her hope was that Mabel and I could do the same. I was excited and loved the idea, but was too fresh out of the first trimester to commit. Next year, I thought.

This year, I didn't have pregnancy as an excuse, and while I thought of using the "I Have a Toddler and Baby and Am So Tired" excuse, I decided not to. Mabel will love it, I thought. She's always "baking" with her play dough. Mostly "happy birthdays" (cakes), but I figured cookies would be acceptable too.

So Friday night I took apple sauce out of the freezer to thaw (That's right, we had homemade apple sauce on hand; let me be smug for a second.) (Tony made it with Mabel months ago with the Instant Pot that I was so excited to get and it's the only time it's been used. Not so smug now, am I?) to serve as our egg substitute. (Mabel can eat baked goods with egg now, but I didn't want to risk her handling dough with raw egg. If she had a reaction, that would put a definite damper on the Christmas cheer.)

I have to be honest, I woke up Saturday morning feeling a bit of dread. I didn't want to bake cookies with my two-year-old. But I also did want to so as I nursed Clarke, I asked Tony if he could please check the apple sauce to see if it had thawed so we could make C-O-O-K-I-E-S. (We're at the stage of parenting where we need to spell things we don't want Mabel to know). Well... Mabel came running over with a big smile, "Mabel apple sauce make cookies!!!"

I looked at Tony, "You told her!" He swore he didn't. "You must have mentioned it!" He swore he didn't. "She didn't ask to eat the apple sauce and you told her she couldn't because we were going to make cookies with it?" He shook his head emphatically and swore he didn't. And that is how we found out that Mabel knows how to spell "cookies."

I put Clarke down for his nap, chose a Christmas playlist, and got out the butter and the sugar. After a brief argument with Tony about whether to double the recipe or not and if we really needed that much sugar and butter, and telling Mabel, It's butter, NOT cheese, and no you can't have a bite!, we got to work.

And...

It was fun!

I'm proud of myself for how much fun we had and that I didn't stress about the mess or about Mabel playing with the dough or dumping a bunch of sprinkles everywhere. She made her own cookies, sans cookie cutters, and I let her bake them and that is how we ended up with a burnt cookie that looked like a snail (I should have taken a picture) and a blob of brown dough (red and green sprinkles don't mix well).

Mabel was proud of herself too and we delivered cookies to her friend Lucia and Auntie Jo. She proudly carried a container of cookies to school on Monday to share with all her classmates. She insisted that I sit and eat a cookie with her after school, her friend Quinn happily ate one and stole another, and she's already asking to make cookies again.

I don't like sugar cookies very much, but I'm excited to make them now! Mom/Grandma, I think we're going to need some Easter cookie cutters.