Month 42

Dear Olivia,

I am incredibly amazed how hysterical you get when you start to have articles of clothing removed.  Not hysterical from an angry standpoint but it's as if when you're naked, it some how evokes this animal within you who is trying to claw their way out.  There is an enthusiasm beyond comprehension that you exhibit when you're naked and it's a joy for nudity that I'm a little jealous of.  Unfortunately, responsibility and age seem to erase the joy of removing one's shirt and running around the house demanding everyone to "LOOK AT MY BELLY!!!"  It's not to say that no adults enjoy the sheer intensity of nudity that most children experience although they typically go in to "entertainment' or hang out at certain resorts with people I can only imagine are named Duke and Butch.  No no, the thrill of getting naked is certainly gone but I will continue to watch you vibrate across the house when I remove your clothes before bath time.

You have always been an excellent child when it came time to put you to bed.  I have heard stories of children flat out refusing, demanding just one more of something or constantly getting out of bed and having to be escorted back.  I finally understand the true meaning of every tired parent's favorite book, "Go the F**k to Sleep."  You have an impressive list of nightly routines you have to act out and ask before I can finally close the door before you belt out, "hold on a second - you forgot something."  There are times I return and you're unable to follow up that statement with anything which drives me mad but you've gotten smart.  Now when I return, you say in your sweetest voice, "I love you with all my heart."  You're smart because you know this statement won't make me mad and you know that this is the perfect time to ask for one more kiss.  As I'm leaving, you remind me that it wasn't a big kiss - you wanted a big kiss.  But wait, where is my hug to go with that kiss?  Didn't you mention I could have a sip of water too?  Miles now joins in on the action and demands a hug as well because I have been in there for a full 36 hours at this point.  Once I hear the farts making their way in to the room, I'm out because I'm not changing another diaper and I refuse to wait another fifteen minutes while you sit on the toilet reading books and singing songs.  Yes, that's great, love you to.  Yes, love you with all my heart.  Momma has got to go now - save me that hug for tomorrow.  And just like that I run downstairs and turn the baby monitor way down low and pretend you're fast asleep. My mantra is if I can't hear you, you must be ok.  So far so good.  This mentality works most nights but sometimes guilt gets the best of me and I'll have to go in to your bedroom one more time to properly say good night.  This occasionally means waking you up out of a dead sleep and scaring the bejesus out of you but it's enough to bring me comfort.

There are many times I question whether you and Miles should be in your own room and this is based on the fact that I have heard you on several occasions through the monitor tell Miles to "lay down and go to sleep - you're being too loud."  This in itself is astonishing because your voice could break glass.  There have been mornings when Miles wakes up painfully early and I know you're fast asleep.  He of course is used to you providing entertainment until I arrive to bring you downstairs for breakfast so he tries to wake you up by screaming at you from his crib.  I feel bad because I know you're tired but most of all I know if you don't get enough sleep, I'm the one who has to deal with the wrath of crabby you.  The problem is, when you two are awake, you do entertain each other until I'm ready to get you.  Without that comradery, I fear my shower may be cut short to nothing at all.  Looks like you just may need to endure Miles a little longer. 

You're driving me mad with your constant need to know what the "schedule" is for the day.  You ask me, "what happens after breakfast? What happens after lunch? What happens after nap?  What happens after dinner?"  I guarantee the answer to all of these questions will not be the answer you are looking for.  No, we are not going to Disneyland today and no, we are not going to a birthday party because let's be honest, you live for princesses and cake. 

This past month brought the passing of our Maddy.  You were tremendously close with her and I have wonderful memories of the two of you interacting.  Unfortunately, you're at the age where you don't understand everything but you understand just enough to make conversations awkward.  Having said that, I had to figure out a way of broaching the subject as to why Madeline won't be coming home.  I found myself at a crossroads - should I lie and say she went off to fun on the farm or do I play the religious card and say she's in Heaven, which your Atheist Uncle will tell you is just as bad as saying she's having fun on the farm.  Regardless, I decided to introduce the term 'Heaven' to you.  Now, I am not a religious person but I do find myself to be spiritual.  My parents didn't have me baptized when I was younger despite attending a Catholic church so that I could make this decision for myself and I greatly respect them for that decision.  I feel it's only fair that I present you and Miles with the same religious freedom.  You do attend a Christian preschool and Jesus is discussed quite a bit but how much you understand is beyond my comprehension.  You may think he's a character on Nickelodeon for all I know but he has been introduced. So when the time came and you asked me where Maddy was, I in turn told you that she's now in Heaven.  Your response was, "which Heaven?"  I explain to you that there is only one Heaven and Maddy is having fun eating massive amounts of peanut butter and kibble and lying in the grass.  You tell me that you miss her and I begin to think that maybe you understand a little bit.  That is until the next day when you ask me if we can go to Heaven and pick her up. 

At the end of the day, whether you decide to believe in Heaven is up to you.  If you want to believe there is a giant unicorn in the sky who poops rainbows, I'm all for it as long as you're happy and as long as you don't have a problem with my beliefs and try to convince me otherwise.  I'm not joining any damn cults, I don't care how awesome you think it is.

Love,

Momma

 

Month 40

Dear Olivia,

To say it has been a difficult month would be an understatement and for the first time you're not the sole contributor to the problems.  That right there deserves a round of applause.  This past month has been jam-packed with a funeral, a car break-in and a sick dog.  Thankfully we decided not to bring you and Miles cross country for the funeral because you would have been very bored and very vocal about your boredom.  When we returned home, we were confronted with a very sick Maddy girl and her health quickly declined over the course of a couple weeks.  Your Father and I are devastated at the mere thought of Maddy being sick and naturally, began to think about all the bad things that could happen.  She still may have surgery in the coming week so we're not totally out of the woods yet but we couldn't help reminiscing over the bond you and Madeline have.  From the day we brought you home from the hospital, Maddy has been your friend and protector.  She has endured every finger to the eye, tumble on to her back and the most recent, permanent marker to the face and she endured all of this without snapping at you.  She has been a phenomenal "nanny" and we would miss her terribly if something happened to her.  You have expressed your concern to me about Maddy and promised me you would say a prayer for her before you went to bed the other night.  Fritz certainly won't tolerate your shenanigans so we need Maddy healthy to act as a buffer. 

I have been frustrated with you a lot this past month and maybe it's the culmination of everything or your constant need to harass Miles but you too have shown signs that you're also frustrated with us.  Typically after you have been reprimanded and you're asked to go sit down in the timeout chair, you usually call out some random word to get the last word in.  One incident, you started to walk away and you shouted, "and one last thing, PISTACHIO!"  You said it with a stern finger pointed at us and the dirtiest scowl I've ever seen displayed upon your face.  Your Father and I, dumbfounded by this bizarre moment, looked at each other and asked, "did she really just shout pistachio at us?"  Well the word has stuck in this house and has become a great stress reliever because I can't begin to tell you how many obscenities I would love to shout your way and we've all heard what happens when we casually say an obscenity in passing when we think you're not listening.  It seriously feels like I'm living with a parrot.  Anyways, 'pistachio' has become our faux obscenity word.  It's a nice word but has enough syllables to make you feel like you're really giving it to someone when you say it.  See, try it: "Pistachio you, you asshole!"  Feels good, huh?

You have always been in to dancing and music and now demand that I turn the music up when we're in the car.  This to me is a total luxury that I miss from pre-baby days.  Sometimes I fake an urgent errand I need to run just so I can play a song eardrum shattering loud in the car.  You recently told me you want to take dance lessons but I'm a little scared of getting caught up in some extreme dance school that makes you wear shiny jackets and crispy Aqua Net hair.  Besides, your dancing might be a little mature for the youngins being that you like to thrust your pelvis while belting out, 'I've got the moves like Jagger!'  It's every Mother's dream to see their three year old with these kind of moves.

You get in to trouble a lot and perhaps it's my fault for not giving you enough one-on-one time.  I feel like I'm always telling you, 'no,' 'stop,' or 'pistachio.'  I must complain a great deal to your Pediatrician because she always seems to be reassuring me how great of a kid you really are.  I'm pretty sure she thinks I hate you and we all know that's not true.  We just have an incredibly complex relationship where we're still trying to figure each other out.  We bicker a great deal and then we enjoy a cup of hot cocoa in tiny teacups.  We both fight to get the last word in and then we play superheroes outside in the court.  I'm not sure if it's normal for a Mother and toddler to argue as much as we do but I like to think it's because I have a strong-willed child.  I'm not opposed to you having an opinion that is yours I just wish your opinion matched mine.  I know, a common argument for most Mothers and hopefully one day when you're a Mother, you will understand.  Until then, I love you lots you little pistachio.

Love,

Momma

And a little look back at you and Maddy girl