Daren and the dogs have departed for PEI, kicking off another solo mission for yours truly.
As I write this I can hear the girls in the bathroom, filling up a bucket of water. I have no idea what dastardly deeds they’re planning but as long as no one is bleeding I’m going to sit right here and pretend
I’m childless nothing’s happening.
This morning I took them to school in pajama bottoms (cleverly disguised as leggings) and a Jack Daniel’s t-shirt. I’d like to say it was a low point but that’s probably wishful thinking.
Believe it or not we’ve actually come a long way since the last solo mission. The girls are getting along and can play together for hours without fighting (at least, I think that’s what they’re doing when I’m watching Netflix and wearing noise-cancelling headphones). Even though their bickering can make me want to run into traffic, in all the ways that matter they’ve settled beautifully into this new life.
Much of the peace at chez Millard can be attributed to the fact that Leila idolizes her big sister. If Harmony wants milk, Leila wants milk. If Harmony’s wearing a dress, Leila’s wearing a dress. Unfortunately, Harmony does not believe that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but she’s happy to take advantage of her new little servant and orders Leila around like a tiny prison wife.
So as we buckle up for another mommy-daughter stint I have to remember – in the midst of the fights over who’s looking at who and who gets the pink cup – that I’m ridiculously proud of how they’ve both embraced this change. They not only function, they flourish. Two months ago they barely knew each other, and now they’re sharing a room, a family, a life. Just like prison.