My oldest child is a lot like me. So much like me that I often make the BIGGEST PARENTING MISTAKE IN THE WORLD and act like her twin sister or even worse: like her kid. As much as that sucks, I get it. I recognize Ruby and I know that I may be a real harsh on her mellow sometimes, she recognizes me, too.
Lincoln, even at this wee stage of his deliciousness, is someone I recognize as well. He nurses like Ruby, all passionate and gripping at me, nursing simply for nursing's sake. He moves and moves and moves and he seems to see things that none of us can, just like Ruby. So far, so great.
Then there's PJ. Miss P. Penelope Jeanne. And lemme tell you, world wide of internet, I have NO IDEA who this person is. I've never met her before, I have no frame of reference. Consequently, I'm continually surprised by her actions, how she functions & gets what she needs. I said it out loud when she was tiny, tiny hoping for the universe to step in and throw me a bone. It didn't. Instead, it threw even more Penelope-ness right-the-hell-at-me. BOOM! Welcome to Penelope! Just try and figure her out, SUCKAS!
She is our wild-ride, our soup-ed up roller-coaster the one who loves us more than anyone could or will. She burns long and hot and believe me when I say that we hit the cosmic jack-pot of fierce loyalty and adoration when she joined us here and started breathing air.
Now if I can just find a way to get her to stop flippin' yelling at us all the time...