Fabric

A friend of my parents' daughter is expecting twin girls in January. Eek. I have been piling away Louisa's old clothes, wondering what to do with them, wondering if I should save yet another round of clothes for...

And then I decided that I'd just save the gender neutral stuff and give it all to her. I mean, twin girls? She is going to need some stuff. I packed the pile of everything from 0-6 months last night. And I couldn't believe how emotional I became. Over some clothes. They are just clothes right?

I remember each piece. Who gave it to us. If it was new for Louisa, or if it was a hand-me-down from Stella... or even if it was a hand-me-down from our gracious benefactress of hand-me-downs... Some of those sleepers snuggled 3 girls. And now, they might snuggle two more.

Why did I get emotional over some clothes? For someone that has researched the power of iconography for the last 7 years, I should certainly know about how memories can be stored in inanimate objects. But as I slowly and methodically folded up tiny onesies, sleepers that will never fit Stella or Louisa again, tears slowly melted down my cheeks... the clothes a tangible reminder of how we can never return. How we can never stop the clock. How our children move and change so quickly that even photos, even this blog narrative, cannot stick them in time; pause time; stop time.

Steve said to me yesterday how much fun he is having being home with Louisa. His throat stuck as he said he never got to have this much time with Stella when she was a baby... and yet, my throat stuck as I am not getting the time with Louisa.... although I supposed it's only fair. Both the girls are infinitely lucky that they have had the time with a parent -- and in some ways, it's wonderful that each got to bond with us in different ways. Stella still prefers me, hands-down, to Steve when things are tough, when it's 5 in the morning and she can't sleep, when she needs a big hug. Louisa, on the other hand, was a cranky pants at 3am, and Steve was the only one that could get her back to sleep.

It's not that I want them to stop changing, stop growing. In fact, each new developmental change with Stella, although sometimes PAINFUL in the transition, has been a wonderful discovery for us. The ways in which she learns, the ways in which she conceptually thinks through her world. And I look forward to it with Louisa. Even now, she's already saying "mama" and "dada" - and sometimes, just sometimes, I think she gets what she's saying when she says it, instead of it just being a string of babbling syllables.

We put up white Christmas lights around the yard this past weekend and I said to Stella last night that it reminds me of a piazza. I explained to her the concept of an Italian piazza and we showed her some pictures on Google. Thirty minutes later she asked to go outside to enjoy the night and the "what's the town mommy? the square? you know?" At first I was confused and she started to cry that she couldn't remember what she wanted to say. "Oh, you mean, you want to go outside in the piazza?" Oh yes, the piazza, she replied, tears wiped away, and happy that she had discovered/re-remembered a new word.

"Isn't it lovely, mama?" she asked.

Yes my love. It is lovely. All of it.