This weekend we finally packed away the Christmas books. We love them so much, but I don't want to leave them out all year, as I don't want them to lose their "special" we so enjoy during December (and January).
For bedtime on Sunday night, I told the girls I had a surprise. I brought out the first of their Valentine's books, and they were delighted! What a treat it is to read that familiar text we hadn't seen since last year.
"Can we read Splat tomorrow night?" the girls both asked. That story line is not the most sentimental...but Splat is a cat...and that makes him a favorite. (We have acquired several Splat books over the last few years, although this was our first.)
I told them we could...but we had a change of plans the last couple of nights when I couldn't put my hands on that particular book.
I was tickled tonight to find it (precisely where I'd been looking!). The girls were thankful to be reunited with an old friend.
It is so sweet to me how clearly they remember details from the story, not having seen it in almost a year. Baby A pointed to a certain illustration and chuckled. And that just made me smile.
This particular book holds a special place in my heart, too. I remember so precisely when I bought it...exactly what happened that day...and it's hard to believe that was SIX years ago.
I was supposed to have a dentist appointment on January 7, 2009 (I think it was). I wasn't quite able to make it, seeing as the girls were born on January 5. I rescheduled my appointment for February 18 (I think).
It just so happened that my appointment fell during the girls' nap time. (As they were still tiny, we were still having to wake them to feed, so I was "safe" to go out for 90 minutes or so.) I put on my maternity jeans and a black sweater (the same as I wore when the girls came home from the hospital). I specifically remember the receptionist saying, "You don't look like you just had twins!" "Thanks, but I sure feel like it!" I remember joking.
My cleaning was a quick one, and I still had a few minutes to spare before the girls were due to wake up. I decided to stop by the bookstore, which is close to the dentist's office. I was feeling sorta-kinda guilty that I hadn't gotten the girls anything for their *first* Valentine's Day. The bookstore had their V-Day books marked down to half price, so I decided to get them each a slightly-belated gift.
I was almost ready to pay, when my cell phone rang. It was my husband, and seeing his call scared me. I hadn't left the girls very often (if ever, by that point???), having just been cleared to drive about a week before.
Hubby told me not to be alarmed, but that Baby A had hit her head on the crib. He had called the pediatrician's office, and they said he could bring her in for a quick checkup.
Although Hubby assured me everything was OK, my heart was beating so fast. I hurried home.
Ultimately, everything was perfectly fine. My A had somehow wiggled close to the crib rail and bumped against it. She couldn't have hit it very hard...she was a 6-week old preemie! Still, Hubby was being incredibly safe (and nervous), and he wanted to have her seen.
Of course she was fine. (And I later remember somehow seeing the note "reassured father" in A's medical file. HA!)
Thankfully, everything was just fine that day. I got our Splat book and probably read it to the girls that night, them snuggled safely in our arms.
It's just funny to me how "real" this still seems in my mind. I remember what I wore, what purse I carried, what outfit I dressed A in to go to the pediatrician. I remember I was pretty scared that afternoon, probably at Hubby's nervousness, as much as anything...and while that "scary" isn't something I necessarily want to remember, I am thankful my mind has allowed me to travel back so clearly to when the girls were such tiny babes.
And, as when we broke out our Christmas books for the season, I'm thankful the girls' delight in such simple pleasures, like seeing Splat's furry face and wide-eyed grin. They just don't know that this particular delight brings Mommy a multitude of memories.