twenty three months

dear claire,

when i was getting ready to give birth to you, i knew i'd be the best mom. i knew i might have to read up on the best brand of diapers, i might not be able to afford the shiniest stroller, but i just knew i'd always be able to make you happy. when you were tiny you were so unhappy, but i figured it out. i researched and i studied and i asked around and i figured out what was wrong. i made you happy, like i knew i would. when your father and i separated i was so scared i'd ruin you. i was so nervous that daycare would break you, that you'd be different, that we'd be poor, that i wouldnt be able to get up every night with you by myself... but its been a year, and we survived. i'm ok, you're ok, we're ok and we're happy. there's been some curve balls. but we still drove it home. we've been through more than the normal mom and daughter have, and we are happy.








then you remembered that you're turning two soon. the clouds parted, the sky opened up and all types of hell went and broke loose. you're not all that happy anymore. sorry. tonight, two time outs, one binky taken away, a sippy cup of milk taken away, your favorite doll removed from your clenched fists and you REFUSED to pick up the carrot you threw on the floor. flat out looked me in the eyes and yelled "NO." the first time you refused i didnt quite know what to do with myself. thirty minutes later i decided to give up. i'm not the parent that lets their child get away with murder. but apparently i am the parent who lets their child litter the carpet with vegetables, because there was literally NOTHING i could do to convince you that throwing food is not allowed and you must pick up the carrot and place it back on the table. you should know, though... the carrot will sit there until you pick it up. you may have postponed the match, but you have not won. i have big plans for tomorrow. i dont care if the carrot is a shriveled up piece of nothing, i will continue to vacuum around it. for the rest of your life. you might show up to your dorm room freshman year of college and when you walk over to the mini fridge to crack open your first college beer you're going to hear a little crunch under your feet. sorry. you're cuter, but i'm the winner.









in 16 days you will turn two. i'll be cheery, i promise. your two year old letter will be positive and uplifting and yay for the future. woo hoo for another year and stuff. but this letter is the one where i get sad. i thought maybe two wouldnt be that old. i mean, its not, really, two is not old. but in the last month you lost your chubby baby cheeks and your fat baby legs and you look like a kid. you talk like a preschooler. you grew out of all your onesies. i am so not ready for you to turn two. i wanna swaddle you and put you in the little bassinet with the bunny mobile and i want random strangers to tell me things like "enjoy this stage, it goes by so fast." i want you to smell like spit up and fit in a moby wrap. i love love love that you're growing and you're healthy but i wish i tivo'd you, so that every once and a while i could replay 9 months again. hold you in my arms without your feet kicking my thigh, give you baths in the sink, and touch your nose to make you laugh. so i'll leave it at that. i wont complain anymore. i will celebrate the new you. the new carrot throwing sentence speaking you. but i just wanna go on record saying that i loved when you were a "baby", and i will always cherish the memories of the first two years. there was some hard times, but we managed to stay really happy.





so this month you started speaking in real sentences. not like - oh three words is technically a sentence... but actual conversations. we talk about the weather, and about all your owies and how you'd like me to kiss that one spot on your knee that you scraped 4 months ago. we talk about your cat and how she is bad and she may or may not be tired and need to go night night. we talk about water and cars and how lots of things are really loud and really funny and we talk about all the people who call me on the phone and how the president's name is obama and you like yogurt and cheese and videos. i could pretty much just pick a topic out of a hat and you could tell me a story. and it may or may not include the word "dammit". did i mention you like to repeat everything i say? oops.





i was watching the super nanny once and she told me that when you put a kid in "time out" it should be as many minutes as their age and the other day i figured out why. you were naughty and i'd warned you that if you hit the cat again i would be so sad that i'd have to put you in your crib. so of course you hit the cat. and i put you in your crib. i sat at my computer int he living room watching the clock. one minute passed, you're screaming to get out... two minutes is approching, you're silent... two minutes and ten seconds.... i'm getting up to go get you from you crib and i hear laughter. then singing. i go into your room and you dont even look up. you are happily playing in your crib singing and reading a book. you'd forgotten all about the cat. i walk over to your crib and you stand up "hi mommy! its cold outside! " time out = FAIL.







today at the grocery store a man came up to me and said "they don't come any cuter than that, i tell ya." and i looked at you and smiled. he's right. you were wearing a new sweater from baby gap and had a smile on your face and bouncy blond hair. you're ridiculously cute. and that's nice when strangers compliment you. but what is even more important is how kind you are. how sweet your little heart is. how even when you're gearing up for the terrible two's you say "thank you" and "you're welcome" and "bless you" and "excuse me" - NOT because we trained you to say those things, you just noticed it made people smile and you figured it out. you care so much about other people and how you make them feel. i cant stress enough how compassionate and loving you are. when someone laughs you exclaim "that's so funny!" you pay such close attention to other people and how they feel. that's such a gift. no amount of sparkley eyes or dimples can compete with how cute you become when you're patting my back and saying "shh shh shh mommy. you're so tired. night night. see you in the morning." i love you, baby. no matter how big you are, you will always be my baby. no matter what happens, i will always make you happy. seriously though... pick up the carrot, dammit.



love ya for good,

mommy