Well.... it's been a couple of months since I wrote to you last. And honestly... it's good that I didn't write to you during that time. Because things have been a little strained between the two of us since your birthday.
And it wouldn't have been a nice letter.
And you would have ended up in therapy.
I'm a giver, that way.
I would like to say I don't know why things have been so
rough. But the truth is, I do know why. It's because your
mother is a bit of a head-strong idiot who apparently has a low threshold for
2-year-old behavior... and has had to learn some lessons in mothering the hard
way.
It's like that with everything I do, by the way. So.. we really shouldn't be surprised.
The last two months of your life have left me feeling eerily similar to how I felt during the first two months of your life. When I was absolutely convinced that I was unfit to be a mother and there were probably better people in this world that were capable of raising you. (Maybe a pack of wolves?) And that you would probably be more than happy to be with them, anyway.
But... Mommy did some quick growing up in the last couple of months... and also toughened up the callouses on her soul, so that she doesn't have a meltdown whenever YOU have a meltdown. And things have been going much better since then.
So, on to bigger and better things, right? Let's start with how much you are talking these days. Oh my God, baby girl... you are a chatter box. And you're really into saying "K?" and "Huh?" Both of these, by the way, usually follow some incoherent babble and we've taken to just nodding - as though we understand what you just asked us - and saying "Yea!"
The problem is, sometimes we've thought it was just nonsense talking with the "K?", but as soon as we say "Yea!", you get a twinkle in your eye and run off to the bathroom. Presumably to drink the bleach or take a tubby in the toilet. So, we've had to curb our immediate yea's for now.
You have been throwing more than your fair share of fits these days. It's the easiest way to get what you want.
NOT.
No... you throw a fit and then Mommy and Daddy decide to engage in this never ending power struggle with a 2-year-old. And can I just say for a moment, that kinda makes me proud? You get your stubborness from me. But I'm blaming your temper on your Daddy. So, while it's his DNA that has you blowing your top when your banana breaks, it's my DNA that won't let you let go of the fact that YOUR. BANANA. IS. BROKEN. No matter how many other bananas you are offered.
Honestly, baby girl... if you make it out of the toddler years completely sane, it will be a freakin' miracle.
Anyhoo... we think we've got a handle on your tantrums now. You are often sent to your room to freak out alone. Mama just doesn't want to hear it anymore. And you kinda, sorta LOVE being in your room by yourself. Almost as much as you love freaking out. Which... DON'T LIE... you really dig, don't you? Oh, I know.
You still love to color and paint and read. And I've been surprised by how much more you're enjoying playing by yourself. Especially with your babies. And my baby (Millie). Oh, you loves you some Millie time. Your favorite game right now is turning off your bedroom light and shutting your door with you and your sissy in the room. It does my heart so good to hear little giggles from the two of you when you're playing together. And for the most part, you're still very gentle with her. And if you do hurt her (on purpose or accidentally) you are quick to say sorry and give her a hug... which is awesome.)
Your second favorite game right now is: Daddy, Lay Down. This game is one that your father adores as well. Because all it entails him doing is laying down on the floor in your room and letting you cover him with 5 blankets and then let you pat his back and kiss him on the cheek. He especially loves this game after working out.
You also love to play on the potty. And to tell Mommy and Daddy that you have to potty, take all of your clothes off and go sit on the potty... and do NOTHING. We've taken to just leaving you in there to do your thang cuz we can't spend the next 30 minutes watching you sit. Luckily, you also love naked time so this is not a problem for you. And as long as you don't pee or poop on the floor (again) we'll allow it to continue. In my opinion... you can never have too much naked time as a kid. You have your whole life to have to conform to societies standards of clothing.... use naked time as much as you can, kiddo. Pretty soon, you'll be 34, have two kiddos and hate to see yourself naked.
Speaking of naked time, the other day you took off your shirt and told your Daddy you wanted to go outside. I should mention now that it was about 10 degrees outside when you decided this would be a reasonable request. Daddy asked you to put on a jacket and you said: "Wanna go outside with my body," while slapping your chest to emphasize the innocent skin that was about to be frostbitten. Because your Daddy decided it wasn't a battle he was willing to fight. And let you go outside. Without a shirt.
About a minute into the Toddler Freeze Out of 2011, you asked for a coat. And wore it the rest of the day. Inside and out. Cuz you're a quick learner, that way. But... we've never had to fight you to put on a coat since then, so I guess Daddy's gamble paid off.
You love to help in the kitchen. Whenever we're cooking or cleaning, you're right there.... breaking the eggs, and dropping them on the floor or standing on the door of the dishwasher as you try to reach for the sharpest knife to
You loved helping decorate the tree for Christmas. We purposely bought a Charlie Brown tree so that it would take me 30 seconds to decorate. An hour later, I finally cried Uncle and let you do most of the work.
It turned out okay, though. You and your sissy did a good job.
Speaking of Christmas, you met Santa Claus for the first time this year. I know, I know... it's terrible that you're two and this is the first time we've bothered introducing you to Santa. But, see... the first year, you were only 3 months old. And the second year, I was pregnant up to my eyeballs and just didn't have the energy or the patience to deal with finding a non-pervy Santa for you to visit with. Turns out that the Christmas Village had one that intrigued you.
Plus, you got to check out where his elves work!
When we drove to Arizona for Thanksgiving with Daddy's family, you watched The Lion King almost the entire way there and back. You loved it. You loved the sights, the sounds, the music. But, apparently, you mostly like Pumba. You know... the warthog who could clear the savannah after every meal? He's a sensitive soul, though he seems thick-skinned. And it hurt, that his friends never stood downwind... and OH THE SHAME!....
Ahem... yes, Mommy and Daddy now have that song memorized as well. Anyway, out of nowhere a few days ago, you started saying poma? poma? poma? We had no idea what it was, so we just started repeating it back to you.... much to your delight. Eventually, it morphed from poma, to puma, to pony, to bunny, to ping-ying, to Pumba. And once we hit Pumba, you got really excited and YES! THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING ALL ALONG! HAKUNA MATATA! It tickled you pink, sweetie. And ever since that fateful day whenever you walk into the house after school, you go up to Daddy and say: Pumba? It never fails to crack us all up. It. Is. Awesome.
You continue to be a Daddy's girl. Who am I kidding? You're giving a new definition to the term Daddy's Girl. For the love... you CANNOT and WILL NOT share him with anyone. Not Mommy. Not Millie. Not the kitchen. Nothing. It's getting pretty old, this "My Daddy" phase. One that we're not sure you're ever going to grow out of. And it's terrifying.
You're going through a thing right now. A thing where you wake up once or twice a night screaming for My Daddy... or occasionally My Mommy. Or sometimes it's just screaming. I think that you're having nightmares or something... so it doesn't seem right not to go to you and comfort you. But man... Mama needs her sleep!!! This phase needs to run it's course cuz I am kind of over it.
The last two months, Mommy and Daddy have been seriously considering buying a mini-van. And for this, I blame you. Mommy's only requirement of being a Mommy was that she never be reduced to driving a mini-van. Because Mommy is shallow and judged other mommies in mini-vans. And thought that she could still pull off "hip" Mommy if she continued to drive an SUV vs a minivan. But "hip" Mommy in the SUV is quickly being reduced to "losing her mind" Mommy in the SUV because you are KILLING HER with your refusal to get into the car seat and your insistence on getting in on your own... and then freaking out when Mommy has had enough and forcibly puts you into the seat. Because it's 7 degrees outside and IT'S TIME TO GO.
So... yes, if we ever get a mini-van, it's all your fault. I'll be "mini-van" Mommy. That and my shoes are a dead giveaway, according to my fellow Mommy-In-Arms, Erica. And I will tell you this if you ever complain about how lame our car is: "Well, we had a Pilot. But you screwed that up so now we get this mini-van. Make your peace with it, kid. I did."
You still don't quite "get" Christmas. Although, you do love you some Christmas Carols. Like Rudolph and Frosty the Snowman. You also know who Santa Claus is. But I don't think you understand the magic that is Santa Claus. I can't wait for you to get that. My parents always made Christmastime really magical and special for us, and I hope to do the same for you.
You and I have been spending a lot of time doing crafts and making cookies and gingerbread houses for the holidays. And if I can ever get you to stop eating the cookie dough or the candies for the houses, I wouldn't end up covered in flour and sugar while sweating profusely. But you know what? TOTALLY WORTH IT.
It is so fun to watch you learn new things every day. It seems like you learn a new word or a new action every day. You mimic everything we do, and I'm constantly blown away at the enormity that falls upon us as parents to children in today's world. I'm telling you... you can easily blow it. And I hope and pray every day that I don't.
You keep us on our toes, kid. And we wouldn't have it any other way.
Love,
Mama
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