“They are as different as night and day.” It is true. It amazes me how they both came of my man and I. I find myself wondering how I will be able to mother two girls with such different needs.

Ro is night. She is fair, blue eyed, strawberry blonde, tall and slim. My first born, she is three years old. She keeps her hands to herself, being curious at a distance. Ro is contemplative and complicated. I watch her walking along the creek leading her imaginary horses and her fishes and talking to herself. She reminds me of me. She can draw for hours, and loves a good movie. She would sit through more books than I could read her, and begs to do our homeschool preschool lesson even on our off days. She is beautiful and plain. She is obsessive and clean. She is typical and very unique.

Ro - Dec. 2008

Ro - Dec. 2008

Plo is the day. She is dark, eyes of an unknown color, her hair the color of weathered wood, small. My second daughter, she is ten months old. She is a firecracker and I love calling her “wildcat’s kitten.” Her hands are in everything they shouldn’t be and have no interest in her toys. She’s been moving where she wanted to go since she was 5 months old in one way or another. She loves the spotlight and watching people. She knows no stranger. I strongly thought she was a boy my whole pregnancy only to be surprised with a girl at the end. People see her and say, “That one will be your athlete.” Or a talk show host, because she loves making her opinion known even with her five word vocabulary.

Plo - Dec. 2008

Plo - Dec. 2008

I worry that Ro and I are too much alike and we’ll bump heads, and I worry that Plo and I are so different that we’ll bump heads. I never dreamed I’d be the mother of girls, daughters, sisters, women. The challenge is one that never gets easier, or boring, or disappointing. In the now, I have them both in need of me. Needing me like a roof over their head, food in their stomach, clothes on their back. Needing me to feed their soul, personality, their want for love. I pray that I can guide them, discipline them, protect them, nurture them, love them like they need me to. I long to be an old lady walking down the holler with my girls at my side talking of their husbands, their girlfriends, their babies, their dreams. I look forward and hope that one day we’ll talk as women and I’ll know their companionship. I pray they’ll still need me and each other.

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