Before I had kids, I thought that each of our potential offspring woud be the perfect little amalgam of me and Eddie: his long, skinny body paired with my long, skinny legs, his thick wavy hair paired with my blue eyes, his thoroughness paired with my endless energy, his mind for science paired with my love for language. But it hasn't really worked out that way. Bryce and Isaac really take after their dad. They look like him (with blue eyes and blond hair, but I had to have some influence on them), they act like him, and when they grow up I'm sure they'll be sports-addicted couch potatoes just like he is (when he's not working 80 hours a week, that is).
But Annie, my friends, is all me. It's a little bit freaky, in fact, just how alike we looked at the same age. Here's an example:
Me, circa 1978:
Annie, on her fourth birthday:
We laugh alike, we walk alike, at times we even talk alike (does anyone else find it ironic that Patty Duke had bipolar disorder?). We both like to do things first and do them best.
But I have a stomach made of titanium. For the last 24 years, through three pregnancies, numerous bouts of the stomach flu, carsickness, and six years of cleaning up after gross little ones, I haven't thrown up (knock on wood). I don't think my body knows how to do it anymore. And over the years, I've developed such a vomaversion that being around other people who are throwing up literally sends me into a panic.
Annie, on the other hand, takes after my twin cousins Tiffany and Tara. When we were all little, I remember them telling me that their favorite food was spaghetti, which they qualified with, "but we always throw up after we eat it so Mommy doesn't make to very much anymore." Even as a very little kid, I couldn't fathom why they would want to eat something that would make them throw up. If we drove somewhere for more than half an hour, we'd inevitably have to pull over so one of them could lose their lunch. And they'd just barf randomly too-- not because they were sick or carsick or anything like that.
On average, Annie probably throws up about once every three weeks. If she gets a cold the congestion makes her barf. When she swings too much on the tire swing she'll be spewing on the side of the playground. Of course she gets motion sickness, and usually spends family trips in a drugged stupor in the back of the minivan. Last night we learned that she can't drink grape juice immediately after drinking chocolate milk.
I still love her, but she definitely didn't get her weak little stomach from me. I feel pity in advance for when she gets pregnant because I know she'll be a barfer. Right now, I'm just glad she has good aim.
--originally published 3/23/06
No comments:
Post a Comment