A letter from your mother on no occasion at all

Beautiful girls,

I have so much to tell you lately, I find myself writing your birthday letters early, in my head, but if there's one piece of advice I can give you as a writer it is to use up all your words now, and you will discover more.

There is something magic about the two of you right now, something that makes me love you infinitely more together than each apart. I remember when Eleri was born and we realized we had two girls, your dad and I looked at each other and asked, "what are we going to do with sisters?" because neither of us has one. Its turning out not to matter: the two of you seem to know everything you need to about sisters, and I am learning.

Eleri, you copy everything Clio does, and you are constantly looking around and asking, "where did Clio go?" which you say with the absolute cutest pronunciation and an inflection that is simply not possible to capture in print. When your dad took Clio to a baseball game without you, you spent the afternoon crestfallen, not quite sure what to do with yourself without your constant companion.

Clio, you are blossoming into this amazing sister, always trying to help Eleri, to direct her. You are also willing to help us with her, like tonight when she did not want to take a bath and I asked you to go get in the tub, knowing that would make her want to go, too. And even though you usually resist the bath these days, you just said "okay, Mom" and skipped off to the bath, looking over your shoulder to say, "Eleri, come on." And come she did. I'll be honest: three-going-on-four is not the most generous of ages, but you are often generous with your sister. On Easter, she only found a few eggs in the hunt, so you gave her some of yours. The other day we were playing with the watering cans, watering the flowers in the yard, and because I am trying to teach you about resources, teach you not to waste, I would not refill the cans, so you gave Eleri some of your water. Even though you, too, had just asked for more.

Sometimes the sharing and the copying can get a little silly, and ours is a house filled with laughter. You have the exact same laugh, and I wonder if it will be like mine when you grow up, as mine is like my mothers. I love this idea: four women with just the same laugh, like the youtube video Clio used to love with the quadruplets laughing in unison over and over. Like the mom in that video, who says "do it agin," Eleri has recently learned "again" and "more" continues to be the word of the day.

Though your laugh is so alike, you are very different people, and it's fun to see how you continue to compliment each other. Eleri is the adventuress, inventing new games for the two of you to play, and this is when Clio is the copier. Clio I can only describe as my little liberal artist, with the books, the music, the art projects, the play-acting. Eleri, I'm willing to bet that you will get Clio playing sports, and Clio, you will keep your sister reading and developing her imagination. I once posted a litany of future professions for the two of you, one way to capture who you seem to be shaping up to be in the moment. Tonight, Eleri, as you tried to body slam Clio and I on the couch, I joked that you would be a wrestler, that you would grow up to join the WWF. I also see roller derby, summer camp director, little league coach, school crossing guard. Clio my darling, you could be a librarian, a dancer, a screenwriter, a gardener (you keep cutting the flowers in the yard, no matter how many times we tell you that after flowers are cut, they can't live). These are not predictions, they are simply impressions. I love that there are so many facets to both of you.

Sometimes, Eleri will pull your hair, Clio, and being the more sensitive of the two, it is unfortunate that this playful aggression runs in your direction--you are not the one who can take it. But Eleri is also a big hugger, and she will tackle you with her affections, and that seems to right the wrong, most of the time. We are working on it with her, trying to teach her appropriate behavior, though, Eleri, you often seem disinterested in these lessons, as you are disinterested in brushing your teeth. We are working on things with both of you, all the time. Eleri, you still tend to throw things when you're finished with them (though you are also an eager and helpful participant in clean up.) Clio, you have grown defiant at times, and we are wearing out the techniques we know to bring you around. Lately, I wonder if we just need patience, though you have worn that through, too.

It's funny: part of me wants to fast forward out of three; we keep hearing four is so much better. At the same time, I would pause Eleri right here if I could, right in this perfect moment of twenty-some months, which is just so delightful (the second time around, knowing the signposts of certain ages, I feel more of an urgency as my favorite stage passes). But this is the beauty of having the two of you: you will ebb and flow, and as Clio hits the calm waters of four, Eleri may hit the rocky shore of two, and so on and so forth. I will simply hope that you continue to be such good friends, even for the hair pulling and the mutual desire for whichever toy or object the other has. Ultimately, we can just hope that your generosity of spirit and your sense of humor and kindness prevail.

I think it's probably not possible to say enough how very much I love you.

Mom