There is an unspoken point system in our home, a scoreboard clearly divided with Brett’s name on one side, mine on the other, and a slew of tally marks under each. Our imaginary records keep track of random things–who our kids prefer, whose behaviors they’re adopting, who they look like–and the final score gives us nothing but a victorious grin and the satisfaction of “I won.” It’s harmless, really–a fun spousal competition that grants us a little leverage. Like “Move over, she likes my pancakes better.”
Brett won a lot of points for the first couple years of Lainey’s life because we heard a lot of “Oh, she looks like her daddy” followed of course by his cavalier smile and a mark on his side of the scoreboard. But this year, things have shifted. I brought home the following photos from Michigan last week–that’s me around Lainey’s age–and as I handed them to Brett, I timed my humble response appropriately. Five seconds of watching his wide-eyed affirmation that yes, that’s Lainey with brown hair–and then…”Booyah.” One point for me, thank you.
Mom, the ribbon under the collar? Brilliant. Well done.
I had some catching up to do though as Brett’s been shamelessly raking in points lately. Like when he overheard Lainey asking me last week “Mommy, why do you always leave the car so messy?” And then he hoarded a point when he whooped a “Yeah, Daddy’s Girl!” after she said Isle of Capri is her favorite place, which is just unfair because it’s everyone’s favorite place.
But that’s fine. You wanna play that way? I can play. I now get a point for every time Nella wants me when she’s hungry which is, yes, totally biased because Brett has no boobs, but we’re playing dirty now. If he can count the lame truth that Lainey once pointed to a Coors Light logo and said “Daddy’s beer” as a point for him, then certainly I’m claiming one for the fact that Nella always reaches for the yellow sidewalk chalk first…and yellow’s my favorite color.
Lainey tries on six things at once and throws the five discarded outfits into haphazard piles on her bedroom floor–clearly a victory for me, but Nella likes to eat slowly, enjoying each bite and taking breaks in between them–an undeniable point for Brett.
Then there’s things we share. Our babies like the beach, the hot sun and the thrill of fearlessly facing gulf waves.
They are both carefree. They love being home. And recently, after Lainey drew a picture and proudly presented it to me with, “It’s a keepsake, Mama. Save it forever,” I knew it was a point for both of us. Because we’re both sentimental savers, evident by boxes full of meaningful tokens from our past lined up under our bed.
The thing is, it is wonderfully satisfying to see yourself in your kids whether it’s your crooked smile or the way you like peanut butter and honey on toast. As our girls slowly grow out of footy pajamas, sippy cups and choosing their favorite colors based on ours, I know we will watch them chisel their own unique identities. They’ll gradually stray from things that make them so much like us and pride themselves on the things that make them different. And we will applaud them.
We’ll still keep score though the tallies may be few and far between, and we will swoon with pride when they resemble us, choose us, mimic us, follow us. But we will celebrate them regardless.
Because, in the end, there’s still a champion.
It’s unanimous. We won.
Red Sunset, post storm–Vanderbilt Beach, Thursday night
