| To my daughter, on her 18 month birthday, 32 days laters.... |
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| Written by OHmommy | |
| Monday, 15 September 2008 19:00 | |
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Dearest Fifi, Your baby book has not been updated, your photo album has been empty for a year, you rarely have the chance to take a full nap, you are always fed 22 minutes after your hunger cries, and you have learned to pick your own nose since it is always dirty. You are the caboose child and I am late in acknowledging your 18 month milestones. A little over two years ago, I finally sold Daddy on the idea of a third child. "The third kid will be easy." I vowed. "They have to be, we know what we are doing now. The baby will be laid back, easy going, and perfect." I begged. Well. You are perfect. Perfect in a Snickers kind of way where at first bite you are sweet and delicious and you just can't get enough. Until you bite into the peanuts and they get stuck in between your teeth and you have to pick at them over and over again until they finally abide. Yes, precious Fifi, I am comparing you to a sweet and salty snickers bar. Shortly you will learn why. Each morning you wake up screaming, crying, banging your head against your crib. Daddy rushes to your room and rescues you. As soon as your precious head reaches our bed you begin to hum and cuddle. After about an hour of cuddles you silently exit our bed and pound on Jay's bedroom door demanding he wakes up, "Jaaaaaa!!!" If Jay doesn't respond, you move onto Lola's room where you sneak inside and empty out the drawers of her jewelery. "Nice! La la la la la!!" You begin to sing out loud before the sunrise. And then. The entire house and neighborhood is awake too. For such a little person you have a large personality already quite established.  You know what you want. This month marked the beginning of our "Mommy & Me" gym class where you are the first child waiting at the gate to be let in. You stand, not so patiently, signing with your hand for more and screaming, "WANT THIS!" And when you want something you want it immediately. You are stubborn and confident, "want this yummy" you state as you stand in front of our fridge. God forbid someone says no to you. You immediately collapse onto the floor, gently placing your hands down to catch your fall, and dramatically peeking out through your tears to see if you have won. "No, Fifi. You can't play with electrical outlets." I declared and watched you fall to the floor in tantrum yesterday. I whisked you off the floor, smothered your neck with soft kisses, and babied you with your favorite blanky. And your world was sweet once again.  On more then one occasion, you have hijacked Lola's room to empty out her drawers. Skirts fly, shirts are tossed, and costume jewelery is swept across your neck as you are ultimately searching for her leotards. You. Are. Obsessed. With everything spandex. Leotards, unitards, swim suits. I have taken you all over Cleveland, on my errands, with leotards strung over your outfits. Other obsessions of yours are shoes and markers. You are actually the happiest in a leotard, marker in hand, and trying on shoes and I have actually found you many times in this state in our shoe closet.  You have two siblings but not one age appropriate toy. On a recent play date, at another toddler's house, you squealed with delight at the site of plastic, lights, and toy noise. You stared at a Fisher Price "pop up" toy for so long I almost felt guilty and almost made a Target run for it. You tried to get each one to pop up by turning, pulling, and opening. You were fascinated. However, at home, you twirl around like a ballerina copying your sister at the sound of music. You scramble to get a seat next to Jay when he works on puzzles and I place a wooden pegged one down for you to complete successfully. You are a welcomed guest at all of Lola's play dates and you can make believe with four years old as you play house and cradle your baby, "Baby. Baby. La la la. La la la. Baby. Baby." Jay has been schooling you on the fundamentals of fencing with a foam sword and your aim is perfect. You walk on your toes throughout the day, almost gliding on air, following your siblings around and have no need for Fisher Price. When the kids are in school I brew my pot of tea and sit down to enjoy the silent house. "WANT THIS" You tug at my shirt pointing at my mug and I have to fill a plastic sippy cup with tea and ice cubes and we sip together side by side. Each school bus that passes by during the day causes you to call out Jay's name. Each time I open up my lap top you wave your hand hello hoping you find Babcia, Dziadek, or Kash on the other end on Skype. I run around the house making beds in the morning just for you to get back on each bed and play peek-a-boo with me. You love to be surrounded by people. There is no down time with you and I really do love that. No question about it, sweet Fifi, out of all my children you have been the recipient of the most kisses. I am more relaxed as a mother and have realized that everything really is better after a kiss. At 18 months, your speech is different than your siblings speech was at this point. Lola was singing ballads and Jay hardly talking at all. Although you fall somewhere in between them, you have been "making" up words that we adopt and use daily. A princess is now a "La la la" and a swing a "Wee Hee" and a cat is a "Meow meow." Your voice is delicious and your "Thank Yous" melt my heart. But your made up words, at times, make me wonder about your speech development. In this day and age of Internet and blogging, I emailed this video to CC of "If Only I Had Super Powers..." She has an Ivy League degree in Biology and a Master's in Speech Pathology and she determined that you are... perfect. She wrote this post , inspired by you, explaining what a word really is and I can now join you with your "La la la's" as we watch Aurora with Lola. And so, my sweet delicious Fifi, you are perfect like a snickers bar. You are sweet and salty and such a treat to have. And as soon as you go to bed at night I am already missing you and secretly hoping you wake before the sun to cuddle with me. Everyone knows that a snicker bar is the best there is. Love, Mama |
