Sunday, June 7, 2009
Letter from Mama, v18
Happy year-and-a-half birthday, lil' dude.
I heard your father call you "almost two," tonight. Then, we talked about toddler beds and potty training and other big kid stuff. You just keep doing it, this growing and aging thing. You're like mold! except much prettier and sweeter-smelling.
It was fun today, reminiscing about what we were doing a year ago. You were on the cusp of infanthood at six months of age. It was a hot, hot day and we went shopping. I put those tiny Nikes on your feet, the silver and white ones, and they left those violent red marks on the tops of your squishy feet. I felt so bad when I saw the welts; I didn't know they hurt you. You couldn't tell us then, you couldn't say anything. You just sat like a round little Buddha, drooling on your brightly-colored rompers. We counted our lucky stars we had such a good baby. We're still counting those stars, lil' dude. We're so lucky to have such a good daughter.
You know where your laundry goes if I hand you clean clothes to put away. You liked the goat cheese I spread on crackers for you this weekend. You still crave routine, in fact, yesterday, at the grocery store when you were cold, hungry, and tired, the whole entire store knew. You have never done that to me in public. I felt ashamed- that I had let you down. Not ashamed that you were wailing, because that's what kids do. I knew you needed to be at home. So, I hustled you there, got hot food in your belly, tucked you into your warm bed and you slept for four hours. You woke up happy as a clam. Thanks for reminding me how you like things. Don't let me forget.
You are still over the line on being a daddy's girl. In percentages, he gets the majority share of your outward affection. You two conspirators! You're always up to something and you're always laughing. It makes me so happy to see you two together. But this morning, from your crib as you began waking up, you asked where Mama go? and where Daddy go? and you really like it when you get both of us. You also like carrying around our wedding photo, the framed black and white one. You repeat Mama, Daddy. It's like you're finally realizing what family means, that we're a package deal and we're best when we're all together. This, little ladybug, is the summer of us. The summer of you. Let's get this party started!