Friday, May 14, 2010

18 months baby!

This is part of Momalom's Five-for-Ten series, where a group of bloggers write about the same five topics in 10 days. This post responds to the third topic, Memory.

My dearest Little Miss,

Today you are exactly the age the label on your shirt says - 18 months! Just thought I would leave you a note to commemorate this milestone. It's a pretty big deal after all. If not, why would it be on your shirt?

So far, things have been pretty unremarkable - in a good way. You continue to grow and hit your milestones as you should. When the experts said you should be sitting, standing, walking, talking, you did. Now the experts say you should be walking on tip toes and you do. Not sure why it's textbook worthy, but there you go, balancing on your toes, looking like you just stepped on cat poo. It's really cute. (Your tippy toes, not the poo.)

Speaking of cats, Macavity is still your favorite; you call him Mac. We got you a stuffed cat that looks just like him - steel grey with tufts of white in the right places - and you also call it Mac (go figure). It is now your favorite next to Baby, the doll you feed and tote around in the mini stroller (you're not quite there with the creative names yet, obviously). When she's missing, you panic - "Baby! Baby!" - and at night, you insist she's tucked in with you. Along with Mac, Pig, Dog and Monkey. (You're so lucky they don't snore.) Yes, you have a thing for animals. We love that you do, because we think this predilection helps create a kinder, gentler soul. Unless you start torturing them. Then I blame myself for watching all those episodes of Dexter while you were in the womb. (But it was such an incredible show!)

Personality-wise, you are very independent and pretty laidback - until you don't get what you want that is. Then it's Little Miss Tantrum. Uhm, hello overachiever, it's called the Terrible Twos, not the Terrible One and a Halfs. Of all the milestones to accelerate, couldn't you have picked speech or a musical talent of some sort? The oboe perhaps? Well, at least you're not always pitching a fit. Most days, you just play quietly by yourself. Mimicry and imaginative play are big now; I love it when you pretend cook with the kitchenware you borrow from me and feed your stuffed animals the pretend steak frites or whatever it is you 18-month-old gourmands make.

At this point, you may even be curious about the kind of people your parents were back in the day. Just to give you an idea of what your daddy's like, the other day, your daddy brought you to me, all excited, "look, what I just taught her" and then he turned to you and asked, "Where's your butt?" I rolled my eyes. You of course had it right, pointing at your dimpled behind. He was beaming, so pleased with himself. THAT'S what your daddy's like. Who knows, he may still be that person as you read this. God help us, although between you and me, I hope so. As childish and silly as he can be sometimes, it's his boyish charm that drew me to him - he makes me feel alive, and it's electric. But this boy before me is also very much a man. One who is in passionate pursuit of his dreams but even then, he always makes time for us. For you. Always.

As for me, I love nothing more than to hear you laugh, and the one person who does that impeccably is your daddy. As I watch the two of you together, belly laughs and all, my world feels complete. There is more I would like to do with my life, but I've put my ambitions on hold just a little just so I don't miss these amazing moments with you. You've inspired me to write, and for that I thank you. You are my perfect muse. And your daddy, my number one supporter.

As a family, our favorite moments are usually when you're nestled between the two of us, where you fit so well. You are and will always be our world, and for now, I'm certain we are yours too. And that feels incredible. Perhaps that's why I am compelled to write you. I want to preserve this feeling, these moments, where we are all you need. For me, this is worth capturing because the girl reading this will have no memory of any of this. She will only have these words. 

Your Mom and Memory Keeper

our little goat whisperer

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