A letter to my daughter: Three years

Dearest Molly,

As I was assembling the cupcake toppers for the cupcakes for your playdate tomorrow afternoon, it took me a few minutes to comprehend those cupcake toppers with the number “three” on them were for YOU! How did that happen? I am not the first mom to say this, but it’s so true that the days can sometimes be long and the years quick.

Your dad and I joke that you are turning 13 or even 23 instead of just three, but now that I’m typing this, tears are forming when I think about how soon 13 and 23 will come.

There are so many things I want to say to you today, on your birthday, but it boils down to this: I love you. I love you. I love you.

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You are so wonderful, Molly. You are pure joy, pure passion. You have such an intense spirit and are one of the most compassionate preschoolers I know. The other day, you asked me if there would be decorations for your birthday. To be honest, I hadn’t planned on doing much; Aunt Beverly and I planned a family pool party for you and Addison, and I invited some of your playdate friends over for cupcakes for your actual birthday. But after you asked me about the decorations, I told Beverly that I needed a banner and cupcake toppers, and I bought some pink and green ribbon and let you pick out cupcake liners.

Tonight, after I printed and assembled the cupcake toppers, you sweetly asked me, “Are those for my birthday?”

“Yes,” I replied, “they’re cupcake toppers.”

“Thank you, Mama, for making those,” you said and my heart soared at your sweet declaration of thanks.

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You are so very clever, just like your dad, and you seem so grown up a lot of the time. You already know who to ask for what and you always have “an idea.” Tonight, we were trying to decide what to eat and we originally thought pizza, but then changed our minds to Mexican. When I asked you if you’d eat a taco instead of a Mellow Mushroom pretzel, you said, “Dad, I have a question. Would you like to get pizza and pretzels? Instead of a taco?”

And then, in the blink of an eye, that grown-up girl becomes silly and loud in the bathroom of Mellow Mushroom, shrieking at the automatic flush toilets and very loud hand dryers, and then bouncing up and down on the bench with a fork in your hand and pretzel in your mouth.

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Molly, I hope and pray that you will have a happy, healthy and fulfilling year. We love you more than words could ever explain. You fill my heart beyond capacity every day and I am so grateful that God chose me to be your mother.

Happy birthday, my sweet peach.

All my love,

Mama

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{Letter to My Daughter} 22 months

Dearest Molly,

Your aunt Beverly, Nana and I started designing your birthday party invitations in the airport on the way home from visiting aunt Whitney. It’s still so hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that in two months you will be TWO. Two seems so young, yet so…what’s the word? grown…at the same time. You are a walking, talking, laughing, mischievous person. Maybe it’s because I have been gone the past four days or maybe so much really does change overnight, but you seem taller, prouder, funnier than you were last week.

I continue to be impressed by your vocabulary and formulation of phrases and short sentences. I am amazed by your recall and keen observation and persistence. I am equally exhausted by these qualities, too. This morning, you wanted to do something, anything. “How ’bout stroller? How ’bout swing? How ’bout bubbles? How ’bout water table?” I love the way you drag out the “how ’bout” into multiple syllables; I can’t help but laugh every time you say it. This afternoon, aunt Bev asked you if Pro came over to help Daddy with the deck and you gave her a look that screamed “duh” and simply said, “Yeah” with a long, slow blink. Beverly and I just looked at each other and cracked up.

You are figuring out social relationships with adults and other kids. It still takes you a while to warm up, even to people you see regularly, but once you’re comfortable, all bets are off. Last week at Graham’s house, you kept taking whatever he was holding and creating a pile with the taken objects; you weren’t playing with them, but didn’t want Graham to, either. “Mah-ee’s turn” is probably your favorite phrase right now. Today, you couldn’t decide which of Addison’s push toys to play with but you finally decided on the car and she had the shopping cart; you haphazardly dropped the play vacuum in the path of your track and when I asked you to pick it up so you, Jackson and Addison didn’t trip or run over it, you knew very well that if you left the car to pick up the vacuum, Addison would take it from you. I love watching you problem-solve these situations, and I try not to step in too much. I want so much to teach you right from wrong and empathy and compassion, but I know that it comes more so from your own experiences and observations than from anything I can say to you.

I’m looking forward to a fun summer with you; I know it will go so quickly and that you will change so much before August 6. I already miss the baby-ness of you, but I can’t imagine not knowing this awesome toddler you are now. I feel like the moon and the sun rise just for you. I love you!  xoxo

Love,

Mama

I didn’t take any pictures today to mark your 22nd month. I was too busy trying to catch up on missed hugs. Maybe tomorrow.

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{Letter to my daughter} 20 months

Dearest Molly,

You are 20 months old today. You are in the throes of learning who you are, constantly testing your limits and asserting your independence. “Milk!” you cry. So I hand you milk.  “No!” you yell, throwing the cup. But when I walk away,  you pick up the milk and grin as you gulp it down.

“Down, down,” you chant when I pick you up. “Up, up,” you beg when I put you down. “Ma-ee walk,” you say when I carry you across a parking lot. You still refuse to eat meat or any vegetable that’s not pureed; cereal bars and yogurt are your current favorites. Miss Jeana and Miss Molly think it’s hilarious that you want a snack at 9:10 every morning, even though you eat two waffles or pieces of toast some mornings. Then you ask for lunch at 11 o’clock, a full hour before you’re scheduled to eat. I sure do wish you’d eat some protein – then maybe you wouldn’t be so hungry all the time!

You love to wear your sunglasses in the car like mommy and daddy. You tell your baby dolls “night, night.” You give hugs and open-mouthed kisses. You drink the bowl of syrup at breakfast. You love to swing. Allie’s bark scares you. You yell “cookie” when we pull into the Harris Teeter parking lot. You love books.

You are becoming quite the comedienne. Your teachers tell me that you have them in stitches all day and I tell them that you have your father’s sense of humor. Last night, after hours in the car without sleeping, you started cracking up. I would turn around to see what you were laughing at, and that just made you laugh harder. You do something – anything – and you laugh and clap and wait expectantly for your audience to respond in turn.

I love to watch you figure things out and imitate others. This morning, your dad said you found a lovey and started “dusting” the furniture in our bedroom with it. Tonight, when I was getting dinner ready, you brought food and pans and utensils from your play kitchen into the kitchen so you could cook, too. When I brush my teeth, you want to brush yours and when I dry my hair, you stand at the bathroom door so I can blow dry your hair. You love to clink glasses or crackers and say “Cheers!”

You know your colors {I love to hear you say “purple”}, can “read” the Happy Baby book to us, and today you counted the front steps, “1, 2, 3.” Of course, I think you are the smartest kid ever. You repeat everything we say, except “I love you.” I asked you the other day, “What’s a mom got to do around here to hear ‘I love you’?” and you practically doubled over in laughter.

Some days I simply cannot believe that you’ve been part of my life for 20 months, but mostly I just feel like I was meant to be your mom. Having you in my life has been the most amazing thing. I am infinitely proud of you and love you more than words can say.

All my love,

Mommy

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