I was trying on celebs like shoes and none of them seemed to fit. Three months later I resubmit my second-self: Tina Majorino. Big forehead. Nose matches. Good enough. Not a true double but if the script of my life ever pans out she’s got job security.
In reality, however, social network fads aside, my true doppelgänger is a blue koala. Back in 2000, the summer Olympics were held in Australia and Texaco offered Inside-Outback plush toys. My parents purchased all of them and eight years later gave them to Caleb.
After a good washing, a hideous blue koala/soccer ball, predating Disney’s Stitch, quickly became newborn Caleb’s favorite. Why? We have a theory. The premise of which is largely based on the facial features of the koala. Unlike other toys it has a flat face that includes two eyes, a nose and mouth similar to the facial features of a human. Basically, Caleb thinks his plush friend is human and since he has associated with the toy since an early age, I’d venture to say Caleb regards it as a family member. In fact, it is one of his “babies”.
If asked what Caleb’s first words were I’d respond: quack, Dada and Ah-yah-yah. That’s right, Ah-yah-yah trumped Mama by at least four months, but that is mine own fault. I would puppet the koala to say, “Hi, Caleb, I’m a koala and I’m from
So after reciting
Recently Caleb, when asked, “What are you doing?” will respond with “badaduh TOWER”, “COLORS”, “HELPing”, “WOLKing”, “THROW” or “KICK” as he commences his toddler-business of stacking blocks, coloring, picking up and relocating toys, adventuring outside and playing with a ball. He enjoys playing ring-around-the-roses and duck-duck-goose with Ah-yah-yah and Ducky. He puts them in time-out for bad behavior especially after he has warned “STA-OP!”
Lately, as I buzz about with my household chores, putting dishes away, fixing the couch cover for the umph-teenth time, dusting, sweeping and whathaveyou, in my peripheral vision I’ll spot Ah-yah-yah, deserted and often face-down on the floor. It has been happening more frequently. Caleb has found other activities to occupy his time. No need to tote around Ah-yah-yah anymore unless he needs a third for duck-duck-goose.
This is a glimpse of myself. My role as mother is shifting from a security blanket to a wet one. Most days I enjoy his independence. These are my face-up days. I’m smiling and relaxing, and the house is in order because I have the means of free time. Then there are those face-down moments when I have a pang of baby hunger. It usually subsides after fruitfully reading a line of a book without needed repetition, completing a project, going for a walk outside, saying a lengthy prayer in reverence, realizing I’ve had at least eight hours of sleep each night for over a year now or using the restroom uninterrupted. You know, the benefits.
I’m glad I have what little intimate time I do with Caleb now. I think he needs it as much as I do.
Part of me misses the possibilities that having a healthy second pregnancy could have produced. I see how Caleb interacts with his peers. He is considerate and meek. I think back to when he was blessed and given his name that he was commissioned to be a good brother and to help his parents raise his siblings, to be an example. His middle name is a constant reminder that he was meant to be a forerunner of other children. There are no doubts that he would be a wonderful big brother, but now is not his dispensation. Until further notice it is a time of acquisition rather than mentoring for Caleb, for whatever reason.
And as for Ah-yah-yah and me, well, we have each other to keep company. I think we’ll join a spin class, recite poetry, volunteer for habitat for humanity, take up underwater basket weaving or just
As for the picture?
Besides the occasional ring-around-the-rosie, Ah-yah-yah has been known to dabble in hide-and-seek. Caleb and I take turns hiding and finding the koala.
Ah-yah-yah Blog Cameos:
Birthday No. 2
All You Need is
1953: A Very Good Year
Memorial Day Parade
Caleb Aerobics
*Argh, don’t even get me started on the accurate meaning of doppelgänger and how a literary term has now been reduced to a mean a person is a mere twin. Curse you, Facebook, on behalf of Mary Shelley and literary-enthusiasts everywhere!
