Summer is on it's way, mother's day is sooner. Can we go to the botanical garden again this year to celebrate? You'll love it even more, what with your new habit of smelling things, not to mention wanting to pick flowers... every time you see them.
Of course, "flowers" are often dandelions, violets or tree blossoms - all suitable for plucking. At the gardens we might have our hands full...or else you will.
I hope the dreary rain will finally let up next Sunday! I'm looking forward to spending some time with my little tulip.
You've always loved water, since you were a little one.
Maybe it's because I had my heart set on a water birth.. maybe because I was a minnow myself growing up in 10,000 lakes country... maybe because your daddy is a skiing - water and frozen water - aficionado.
You were born at a hospital two blocks away from a lake, and spent many afternoon stroller rides alongside a lake too. That's just what living on an isthmus does to you, I guess. For living in the landlocked midwest we certainly have more than our fair share of H2O.
We only got to take you swimming once last summer due to our fear of late-summer "bloom" (meaning, bacteria that flourishes in the warmest waters). So we settle for lots of baths during these chilly days.
No sooner have I turned on the water than you come running. Even if it's the sink faucet, you have to find out if it's time for a "baf." If it is, you ask about a thousand times if it's hot. I make sure it's room temperature at most. It's far too cold if you ask me!
You love to play with the water, filling up cups and emptying them out again. The introduction of a small yellow saucepan and spatula has given you new activities - now, in addition to pouring, you can stir.
The one thing you hate is having the shampoo rinsed from your hair. Lying back in the water makes you panic and I don't know why. Second to hair rinsing is when it's time to be done. But, the owl towel (which is fun to use and say) has helped a little. Still, I think you'd be happy to wrinkle away in your chilly water for hours if I let you. Silly girl.
Today was your lil' cousin Hoolie's 2nd birthday! Her mama and I are hoping you two will be two peas in a pod as you grow up. How could you not be? You're both the perfect combination of scrappy n sweet. Just like your mamas.
It's a challenge every day to slow it all down, tune it all out and just think.
Your dad doesn't have this problem; he can think about something for hours, days, weeks. He can easily compartmentalize. Granted, all the big things never get completely shut out of his mind either. They just simmer on the back burner.
He's also relatively impervious to all things pop culture. He chooses what he wants to know about, as if he has ear plugs permanently set in, blocking out all the nonesense that is the world.
Me, I'm not so fortunate. Why do I know lyrics to songs I don't even like? Why do I know what celebrities are together (and when they inevitable divorce, the supposed reasons why)? Why can't I remember important things like the time of an appointment, or the check for daycare, or when the last time I had my teeth cleaned was, or when I started this new set of contacts?
The built-in martyr complex that comes along with motherhood tells me that I'm always thinking of how other people need to be taken care of, which is why I can't seem to take care of myself. But that isn't true.
I could go to bed earlier, get up earlier, leave earlier, and then I wouldn't be habitually late for work. I could sleep more, eat a more balanced diet and work out regularly, and then I wouldn't be so ingratiatingly self-deprecating.
So why don't I do those things? I could be a better mom if I didn't neglect myself so much. And not in an "I deserve this shopping spree because I'm stressed" way of tending to myself. If I engaged in activities I like - writing, fashion, cooking, reading, travel - maybe I wouldn't be so bored with myself... and end up disliking myself so much.
We recently went to lunch for work to meet our new boss. I couldn't think of a single thing to say, to anyone. Now, I don't think I have much in common with them, but it used to be easier to manufacture conversation. The only time I perk up is when someone asks me about you. I love you to pieces, baby, but you can't be all I've got.
The beginning of your second year just started and it's coming to a close already. We had the neighbors over for NYE, scattered confetti and you admired the balloons - as you always do. You brought everyone joy with your giggles - as you always do.
You continually surprise me with what you know and how your personality comes out in little ways. Once a snuggler, you're now much harder to pin down; running from here to there, finding baby doll to feed, vacuuming, playing in the fort.. a busy girl doesn't always have time for mom and dad's affection.
But I instituted something called the "nose smoosh" several months ago, and you still oblige me (and now, daddy too). If I ask you for a smoosh, you wrinkle your tiny nose and go in like you're asking for a smooch. Usually you're not satisfied with just one. That's ok with me.