And then it came time to introduce the girls to Parker.
Although they would spend the next few days at Grandma’s, we’d taken care to see that school, dance class, and playgroup would proceed as usual.
The idea was for them to see Parker as an addition to their lives, not an obstruction.
As 3 o’clock approached I picked up Olivia, my youngest - oops, my middle child - from my Mom’s and went to pick up her sister at school.
Grace was a bit more subdued than I expected - a hangover from a late night at Grandma’s I imagine - but she was eager to hand out the blue bubble gum cigars I bought for her classmates.
Read that bit again: bubble gum cigars. I had a whole box of chocolate cigars, and yet I chose to give the bubble gum version to a room full of three-year olds that have yet to master zipping their jackets.
Bet the other parent’s loved me.
At the hospital they both seemed relieved and happy to see Mommy up and about, but while their initial attention was on her, it didn’t take long for them to notice their little brother.
This was the stuff video cameras were made for: my girls beaming as they were introduced to Parker, doting on him and saying things that were so cute they'd make Art Linkletter smile:
"Your tummy looks a lot smaller mommy"
"Why his belly-button all icky?"
Unfortunately I didn’t have a video camera; just after the birth the night before, one of the nurses had dropped the camera bag and broken my camcorder.
I would curse her name forever. . .if I'd thought to get her name in my post-birth glee.
And then it was time for the gifts from Parker. When Olivia was born she ‘bought’ Grace a doll. Grace is many things, but a doting caregiver is not one of them. It lay unused until Olivia was old enough to appreciate it.
This time around we tried to be a little more precise. Livvie - the nurturer - got a dolly, while Grace -the diva - opened a gift bag with sunglasses, lip gloss, glittery belts, etc.
All dollar store stuff, but they loved it enough to fight over it.
I was a little nervous when they held and fed Parker, but they did just fine. By then visitors were rolling in - including my mother-in-law, who'd come to take Grace to dance class.
Before they left I wanted to take them down to the cafeteria for dinner - an ode to an old McDonald's commercial about a father and a new big brother who bond over french fries.
Yes, I fashion my sentimental moments from the refuse of fast food ads.
It was in the cafeteria that I had a good scare.
I was busy picking out a motley collection of fruit, Cheetos, yogurt, and milk for the girls (hey, it was a special occasion) when I did the standard head count.
And came up one shy.
Olivia was nowhere to be found. Not just temporarily out of sight, but gone. I put down the tray and with panic rising, hurried around the salad bar.
In a small room that was nearly empty, I couldn't find her.
And then I felt a tug on my pants leg.
Olivia had been behind me the whole time, her little legs keeping her just far enough ahead/behind to remain hidden from my sight.
Meanwhile Grace was calming standing to one side.
"Why didn't you tell me Olivia was behind me?" I demanded.
You see where this is going, as did I even as I asked the question. But what shocked me was how slow and deliberate her answer was, like she was explaining it to someone with head trauma.
"You didn't ask Daddy"
Maybe she has reason to think that way - after all I volunteered to bring another one of these monsters into the world.
What else but head trauma would explain that?
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