You are 18-months-old by the calendar. But by pure Do-Everything-My-Sissy-Does, you're much closer to 3-years-old. Seriously. You've lived a lot in 18 months.
You know, there are not a lot of guarantees in my life. Often, I find myself flying by the seat of my pants as a Mama with two little girls. And I've had to swallow a lot of pride and admit that I can't do everything. And that there are just some bridges we'll cross when we come to them.
And I have to accept that every day I have a lot of knowns and unknowns.
- If I'm going to get a call from school telling me one of the two of you are sick.
- If I'm actually going to survive a workout at Crossfit (it's 50/50 every day).
- If I'll be able to get my coffee-sugar-creamer formula just right so that I'm not drinking just coffee or just creamer.
- If I'll remember to fill up the tank in the car before I run out of gas.
- What we'll be having for dinner on any given night. And if that dinner will be well-received by my girls.
- Both you and your sissy will demand a banana each morning.
- Neither of you will actually eat the banana.
- If Mommy and Daddy have had a late night, the wake up time for both you and your sissy are directly proportionate to the lateness of us falling asleep. AND NOT IN THE GOOD WAY.
- If your sissy does something, you will immediately do the same thing. Even if you see that what she just did caused her pain. (ie: falling off the chair, poking herself in the eye with a bobby-pin)
- No detail of copying your sister is too minute for you.
- When you say No, you mean No.
- Except when you say No and you mean Yes.
- You like to tease your sister. Mercilessly.
- You are going to find mischief. Even if Mommy specifically hid mischief, and told you not to find it. Not to even look for it. You're that good.
As you've likely noticed, I compare you and your sister a lot. Not comparing by wondering why you aren't more like Hazel... but more like: "Wow... Hazel never would have been able to find the yogurt, dump it on the ground and then swim in it while I wasn't looking."
Because I was always looking. I was on that poor kid like white. on. rice. She never got to find mischief. And for that, I owe your sissy an apology. I wish I could turn back the hands of time and get the hell off her back and let her experience things like you get to.
Like I try to let her do now.
I wish I could go back and not helicopter parent her. Because OMG... she never got to do some of the things that you manage to do. And how sad for her! There were so many things to ruin that I just never let her ruin. But you... you have amazing closing speed for attempting or succeeding at ruining things. (But you ruin them in the nicest way). You love finding new things to make messes with/of. And it's made your eyes twinkle and your giggle a little more sinister when I find you sitting in a puddle of nasty, old yogurt.
Life with you is an experience. You're so courageous and such a scaredy cat at the same time. You love to see the fish in the aquarium, but when we took you fishing up in the Uintah's with Daddy, you absolutely freaked out when he caught a fish and tried to show you. It was as if we'd asked you to look at your own eyeball. You screeched, cried and tried to climb up on to the top of my head, Curious George-style.
You are deathly afraid of bees. If a bee comes around you, you lose it, start wailing and run for safety. Now, roly-poly bugs... those you're okay with. But you don't mess with bees. EVER.
Yesterday at your future BFF's birthday party, you completely dominated two little boys who are older than you in the jump house. Dominated. Dominated and then stole one of the little boy's Mickey Mouse figurines after dominating him. LIKE A BOSS.
Yep, you're sooooo gonna have lots of dates when you grow up. Cuz if there's one thing I learned growing up and not dating is that boys LOVE it when you beat them up and steal their stuff. Especially if after you beat them up and steal their stuff, you softly pat their head as if to say: "Don't worry. That's just the way it is. Embrace it... cuz it's gonna happen again. Soon."
That's totally how I landed your Daddy, btw.
You're still doing a lot of babbling. Your favorite words are No! and Mine! And those are really the only words you communicate with. You often call for your blankie when you're upset... but you pronounce it Bee-Bee!
And let's talk about your blankie for a moment. You know... that thing that can pretty much stand up unassisted because the only time I can ever manage to wash it is the one time a month when you don't have it clutched closely while you imitate your sister falling off the bed? That blankie. It's seriously disgusting, but it's the only thing that bring you comfort when you're crying... because your sissy is crying.
Anyway, you may not have a lot of words, but I'll be damned if you don't know exactly what we're saying. I can tell you to go get me your teddy bear, and you run off to go get it. I can tell you to throw your diaper away, and you grab the diaper, and run to the trash. I can tell you to brush your teeth, and you know right where the toothbrush is and start to scream for me to come put on toothpaste. I can tell you to share the stool with your sissy... and you completely ignore me. That's how I know you have selective hearing.
Speaking of your hearing, we just found out you have yet another ear infection... we're pretty good at catching them early so you aren't in too much pain yet. But that means you're at something like 6. Awesome. You now qualify for your very own set of tubes. Just like your sissy. And that hopefully means that your speech will improve and you can add Yes! and Share! to your dialogue.
We recently had to put you through a little sleep routine maintenance. Because after your last ear infection, your sleep patterns changed and you just couldn't understand why we weren't down with you waking up 30 minutes after we put you down for the night. And you couldn't understand why we weren't down with you still being awake at 9 p.m.. And holy geez, little girl. Have you got some lungs. Like... SERIOUS lungs. We tried everything but you simply would not go to sleep unless we rocked you to sleep. And yea... I'm down with that for about two days because you were never one to let me rock you to sleep so I tried to soak it up. But, let's get real here... you're 18-months-old. And you're 26 pounds. And you squirm. And while I might be the strongest woman in the world, you may well be the strongest baby in the world.
Luckily, it just took a couple of nights of listening to you scream before The Good Ship Millie righted its course. You're now in bed by 7:30, and sleeping through the night again.
You bring so much excitement and joy to our little family, Millie. Even when you're in the middle of making some very big mischief that could very well burn the house down, we can't imagine our life any different.
Do me a favor. Keep being you. It keeps me young.