27 Months Old

Friday, October 31, 2008

Dear Carlita,

I knew early on that there was a whole lot more going on inside that noggin of yours than you let on. That little Buddha smile might have fooled us for a little while, but it didn’t take us long to realize that whatever was going on around you, you never missed a beat, your eyes always scanning the room looking for the source of whatever caught your attention. You were a calm baby, yet firm. You put up with a lot and in return you had a few demands that had to be carried out.

I knew early on that this old-soul behavior was just the calm before the storm. My dear, you have not disappointed me. I never knew so much frustration could fit into such little space as your two year old body. Oh the things you want to do, and always now, now, NOW. This month you have learned, because you demanded to, how to push the button on the dvd player so the dvd magically disappears into the machine. You demand to be lifted so you can put the dvd cover on top of the stack we keep at the tv. You are afraid of the dark, and you have an obsession with “cider” (which, as it turns out, means “spider”, because we happen to have quite a few of those.)

All of a sudden there are so many things happening to you, with you, about you. You’ve had the longest fuse ever and now you’ve finally run out, the result is nothing less than spectacular. As much as I loved you as a baby this explosion of your personality makes me fall in love with you all over again.

And you are stubborn. Oh so very stubborn. You don’t just want to play with a toy, you want to know how it works first. I can’t sit down and draw with you because you will attempt to take over, just like your mum. I doubt your teenage years will be easy on us, but I can also see how this stubbornness that I so lovingly passed on to you will keep us together, because there is no denying it, you are your parents’ daughter, and I can only describe our love for you as fierce.

Your dad turned to me today, all shocked, just to say just how big you’ve gotten, how there is no baby left in you. Something I say in a small, confused voice to him on a near daily basis, because dude, where did my baby go? But now your dad has finally caught on too and it really is true. You are growing up. So fast. We bought you your first pair of boots when you were still a chubby little thing, and you are just now growing out of them, a year and some months later. Much like Pinocchio you have turned into a real child.

I hope you will read these letters one day and look at all the pictures and know that not a single one of them has been able to capture the beauty I see when I look at you, or my writing able to do you justice, and yet I hope you will enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy the time I get to spend with you.

26 Months Old

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Dear Carlita,

My darling daughter, you had your first vaccination on the 18th. Your dad took you on his own to your 2 year well baby checkup, and he said everything went fine until you had to have your shot. He was very upset that you were upset -  in a way I am glad I did not have to witness your delicious toddler thighs being so savagely violated, and the resulting tears and upset - but he also said that within minutes of having had the shot you went straight back to being your usual cheerful self.

There was nothing to comment on, you are as healthy as ever! You are within all the limits of what goes for “normal” these days, and besides being on track physically you are also catching up to the terrible two’s reputation of, well, being your own little person and wanting to do things on your own despite not having the fine motor skills required to perform whatever task you simply have to do. By yourself. Or you’ll JUST DIE, and what should have been a death rattle when you get this upset is instead a silent vortex until your lungs catch enough breath to stop a furious moose dead in it’s tracks with something that can only be described as “siren like”.

You did end up with a fever a couple of days after getting your jab, and maybe that is when you got spooked by something in the night.

On the night of the 29th you had one of your first real night terror.You have been scanning the bedroom now lately before going to bed, to make sure you know what every dark shadow is before lying down and relaxing. It has been awful to see you so distressed about this, but I am pretty sure this is something that you’re supposed to go through at your age. I had you curled up in my armpit, with the milky lava lamp on, the radio playing softly that night and it’s the first time in a really long time that the two of us were snuggled closely together while you drifted off to sleep. I cherished every single second of it.

You are in such a hurry these days, so that if I’m making you a sandwich on the kitchen counter you have to come check what is taking me so damn long to present this sandwich to you, so you go about the house to find your little blue chair and drag it all the way back to the kitchen so that you might climb it and see, with your own two eyes, that I’m doing it right. By the time you get the chair to the kitchen counter I am usually finished making whatever I was making, but you will have none of it because you want to SEE it being made, but only because it took me so damn long in the first place.

You no longer want to hold my hand when we’re out walking. It makes me both nervous, because you focus your eyes on where you want to go and the rest of the world could be desert mirages for all you care, and it makes my heart hurt just a tiny bit because my baby.. She is growing up so fast.

Sweetheart.. I will let you in on a secret. I read a lot of blogs. And every once in a while I’ll come across a post where someone says “My parents never understood me” or anything to that effect, and something inside me dies every time. I am so SCARED that you will grow up feeling like your dad and I don’t know you, or don’t understand you, or don’t appreciate you for exactly the person that you are and not someone we wish you were. You are exactly who we want you to be just by being you. But should you ever FEEL as if we don’t understand you, I still NEED you to know that we love you no matter what. Unconditionally.

Always and forever.

25 Months Old

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Dear Carlita,

I know I missed your birthday month, and I was this-close to not writing this month’s letter as well. It’s not that you are not worth writing for and about, it’s more that I don’t know how to articulate this period of your life - there are no major physical transformations, except your hair is getting longer, and so the changes we are experiencing are mostly of a spiritual nature. It’s hard to put into words, because “I feel closer to you” somehow implies that we weren’t close enough to begin with. You are my child and I love you no matter what, but lately I have been feeling closer to you.

Maybe it’s your age and having the kind of mindset that comes with it, something I can somewhat relate to and work with that has made it easier for both of us to click. And yet it’s hard. It’s hard each and every day, and I don’t do that well on even half of those days, nearly all nights ending with me telling myself that tomorrow is another day, I can try harder tomorrow. I know the day is coming where I have to get you out into the world, because you are depressingly under-stimulated here at home with me, alone. It’s just you and me until your dad comes home. You deserve more fun in your day-to-day life, and as hard as I try, that tomorrow where I can be all those things for you is not going to come.

There is no other fix for that than to try harder, but when even that does not cut it maybe it’s time to look for something better. I don’t know what that thing will be, or when we would be able to afford it but I know the day is coming, even though lately you and I have really clicked. I love being your mother, I need you to know that.

You love the lake, you love water puddles, balloons, rocks, your books, the cats, you could spend hours in the bath, you adore any clothing that is pink or purple and, controversially, you love coffee. You wouldn’t touch a baby doll with a stick, and you still fight sleep tooth and nail (just like your father. Still.) You have thrown your first official toddler tantrum, and I had to squelch the urge to laugh, failing miserably. I am so sorry. Surprisingly your growing independence is just the thing that makes our mother/daughter relationship that much better.

And even though saying this might make it seem like I am the most ungrateful mother on earth, I just can’t wait to have actual conversations with you, to know what is on your mind and sharing my own. As much as I miss the baby years I can not wait to see what we have ahead of us. It’s all so very bitter sweet.

Two Years Old

Thursday, July 31, 2008

So much to say, and not enough words.