twenty months

dear claire,

there is someone who was very important in my life that you never got to meet. my papa, my mother's father. since you are so obsessed with YOUR papa this month, i thought i'd tell you a little bit about mine. my mom and i were talking about the frustrating job of attempting to communicate with a tantrumy toddler when she turned to me and said "your papa always used to say how much easier it becomes when they can 'tell you where it hurts.'" ha ha ha. wouldn't that be nice.





in case you are all grown up and reading this someday and i'm old and crappy, i want to tell you about my papa before i forget. i don't have a diary, so these letters kind of serve as the only way for me to preserve not only my memories of you, but my memories of what i'd like you to know.







in my mind my papa ties for first place in the kick-ass department with your papa. he was AMAZING. looking back on my childhood, i tend to remember certain events and activities i shared with him. like puzzles, and card tricks, and candy... but any papa can do that. what i want to share with you is the life lessons i learned from him. generosity, forgiveness and patience. ironically, the same traits i see your papa teaching you. isn't it funny how you don't see it at the time when you are the student? we take it all for granted. it isn't till you're 28 and you see you're own daughter's eyes light up at the sight of her papa that you really realize how much your papa made your eyes light up.





it's been a long time since i thought about the sound of his voice, or the smell of his old spice. the way he made me feel so special by letting me sit in his chair. if there was one person i could bring back for even just a moment to see your face it would be him. damn, he would love you so much.



you are talking so much now. tonight at my parent's house you were so concerned with the whereabouts of your papa. every time he left the room you'd yell out "paPA!?" he'd come and pick you up and throw you up in the air and play "i'm gunna get you!" and call you a "silly goose". you are lucky. your papa is just as good as mine was.





he knows how to teach generosity, forgiveness and patience through example. he will make sure that you always have everything you need, he will forgive you no matter how ridiculous you are, and no matter how many times you push his buttons he will be there for you, he will be there and be exactly what you need. he will be the one person to whom you can do no wrong. i know this because he did it for me.



my papa was amazing. your papa picked up where mine left off. my papa taught me how to be a good daughter. i don't ever want my dad to leave this earth not knowing how much i love him. losing my papa made me realize that you can't take people like that for granted. ironically, your papa has taught me how to be a good mother. i never want you to go a day on this earth without feeling the happiness your papa made me feel. i do, and i will try my best to treat you how he treats me... with generosity, forgiveness, and patience.



so even though right now you speak a crazy foreign toddler language, and you throw tantrums in the middle of target, and you hit the cat, and never eat dinner... you're doing ok. we're doing ok. tonight i was thinking about us. i was thinking about how a few days ago you turned to me and said "i love you mommy." for the first time ever. and i think that's pretty important.

you may not be able to tell me where it hurts yet, but you can tell me where it doesn't. right in your big toddler heart.

my papa would be so proud of us.



i love you too baby,

mama

nineteen months

dear claire,

i'm so tired. this month was ridiculous. lets start with your three day hospital stay. i would compare those days to the first few nights you were home from the NICU as a newborn. i slept horribly, woke up every few hours to comfort you, didn't brush my hair for a few days, and watched you breath a lot. i either wore the same bra for three days, or didn't wear one at all, i'm too tired to recall, i got pee on me (not my own), and while driving i played over and over in my head a scenario where i get pulled over for drunk driving and laugh like a lunatic at the officer and mumble something about "yo, i WISH i was drunk! i was swerving because i have had a total of 6 hours of sleep in 4 days, SUE ME." i don't know why i always think that would be so funny. but i totally envision me acting like a drunken a-hole and the officer doing a breathalyzer only to find that i'm stone cold sober, putting his tail between his legs and walking away. i would totally drink to that. i am SO OVER cops and their little ticket books. anyway, it was a blast. you couldn't breathe. now you can. let's hope it stays that way.







month 18 was a very painful month for you. you had your blood drawn three times, several shots, an iv, nasal swab, x-ray, breathing treatments, numerous people looking in your ears, oxygen tubes taped to your face, etc. it sucked. and i'm sorry. i really hope that it was all a fluke. next month we're going to have to steal more of your blood to test your crappy immune system and hopefully find out why you keep getting so sick. i promise i will make it up to you. i will take you to the zoo... or the pet store in the mall that has all those puppies in glass cages. you're 19 months old, i really doubt you will notice a difference.








this month at your 18 month well baby appointment the dr had some nice things to say about you. you speak like a 24 month old. no big surprise there, considering that i never shut up. but in a way, i feel like it was such a huge accomplishment for us... ok, more you. but really, us. when you were born all crazy early i was so scared something would be wrong with you. worried that i should have moved less while on bed rest, or not eaten a baked potato for breakfast every day, or snorted less crack cocaine (kidding)(duh). when you smiled a little late, sat a little late, crawled a little late and walked a little late, i was always on the edge of my seat fearful that you'd NEVER learn. so last week when you strutted across the living room in my high heels and yelled out "BABY WALK MAMA'S SHOES!" i almost fell over. you are truly my child. lazier than a fat cat laying in the sun... but when it comes to looking hawt in high heels and talkin' it up - you are a supahstar. we'll check that right off the list of important life lessons.







september of 2008 will always be remembered. for two reasons. 1. the u.s. american financial crisis. and 2. the month i tried to potty train you and you crapped in my bedroom. as you can imagine, quite unforgettable. basically, i bought you a really cute potty. i tried to show you how to use it. you laughed and played and pretended to put toilet paper in it. you ate a cracker. we had a blast. then i turned my back for a moment, and when i turned back around you were gone. for only 10 seconds. which is apparently the exact amount of time it takes to walk into my room, poop right next to my bed, STEP in it and yell out "EWWWWWW". the potty has been retired until you are old enough to get a job and hire a company to steam clean the carpets.






which... might be right around the corner, as your new favorite past time is being a stripper.



lovely.

your personality is amazing. i was just noticing tonight that when you smile now, you really, really mean it. before this month you would smile because you could tell we were trying to be funny, or you were just overloaded with weird baby emotions that make you burst out laughing for no reason, or something was generally fun. but now your smile is genuine and sincere.







this evening you were standing around looking for something to mess up and i was staring at you, embracing your cuteness. you turned and looked me in the eye and smiled at me. but something was different. something has been different in your smile for a few weeks now. you weren't smiling because you thought i was being funny. you were smiling because you wanted me to see your smile and feel your happiness. that's the difference. you get it now... you get that how you act and the things you do make others FEEL things. you know that when you hit your friends, they feel sad, and when you stalk the cat she feels scared for her pathetic little life, and when you smile at your mama, you make my day. you completely get it. you get what a lot of grown men and women in this world still don't get. a genuine smile spreads joy.



thank you for reminding me that some times its the simplest things that comfort the most complicated pain.



loving you joyfully,

mama

"Peace begins with a smile,.."
— Mother Teresa

eighteen months

dear claire,

happy half birthday! today you turn a year and a half old. i think this marks the point in your life when i have to stop dropping f-bombs within ear shot of you and walking around half naked... i wasn't really sure what the cut off for that was until the other day when you pointed at my topless top and exclaimed, "EWWWW!".

THANK YOU, for that. i was hoping someone would notice how repulsive my breasts are.

you're beginning to have strange opinions (read, my boobs are NOT gross, thank you), and you are starting to repeat what you hear. one can only assume that you were simply misquoting something, and what you meant to say was: "ooooooh! whatagreatrack." no worries, it happens.







this month you have really mastered feeding yourself. i think we've finally reached 60/40. you get about 60% of the food into your mouth, and only 40% on the floor. 60% of the food you put in your mouth stays there, 40% ends up in your hand, and 60% of that, eventually is shaken onto the floor. 60% of the food on the floor ends up being eaten by the cat before 40% of it is subsequently barfed up by said cat. i sit and drink 60% of the bottle of wine while dreaming of getting 40% of my deposit back on the condo. not likely at this point.









despite the fact that you are incredibly messy and have ruined hundreds of dollars worth of my personal property including two cell phones, two camera lenses, makeup, jewelry, wine glasses, about 100 square feet in carpet, etc, you still manage to be completely disgusted when your hands are dirty. forget that you are sitting in your own urine, have carrots in your hair and frequently eat week-old cheerios off the floor, you will come running across the room practically gagging at the sight of the microscopic piece of lint stuck to your hand. oh, the irony of toddlerhood.









this month your vocabulary has really taken off. you are beginning to put two words together. some of my favorite combinations are: "cute shoes!", "red balls!" and "love you." i will never forget... you were in your jammies, standing at the coffee table. i was on the couch. i was sitting there staring at you toddling around, looking for something to mess up. you turned and looked and me and smiled. i said, "i love you baby". you went back to what you were doing like i'd just told you "it's wednesday and i love ninjas". so. freaking. what. right? but then about 20 seconds later, you whipped back around, looked me right in the eye and said, "love you." i screamed and laughed and clapped like a mental person and grabbed you and said, "YES YOU DO!" you really should. i'm pretty amazing. i'm glad that after 18 months of basically worshipping you, you finally second that emotion. thanks for loving me back, and publicly admitting it.









i can't possibly even put into words how my love continues to grow for you. over the last year i've really struggled with depression. you have been my lifeline. every time i'm feeling worthless, i remember how important i am to you. and every time i feel empty, i remember how much your smile fills my heart. every time i feel lonely, i grab you up from your crib and lay you next to me in bed and hold you close. your baby scented hair and your soft skin remind me that life isn't always this hard. i can feed off of your happy experiences until i can gather up enough of my own. i can soak up some of the joy that you get just from a leaf blowing in the wind, or a song about buses. every time i start to cry because stuff hurts i try to remind myself that a team is only as strong as its weakest player. you need me to be strong and healthy and good. and i will be. ugly jugs, and all.



love you ooooh so much,

mama.

seventeen months

dear claire,

happy seventeen months, darlin'. you are for sure giving me a run for my money. but every time you pump up the volume on the tantrums, you bring it up a few notches in the sweet baby department too. for example, you can not make it through a meal without being completely dissatisfied. so much so, that you flail around in hysterics. GD PIECES OF TURKEY!!! BURN IN HOT HELL STRAWBERRY PUFFS!!! DON'T EVEN LOOK AT ME YOU JERKFACE PEAS!!!!!

how dare they.







but on the other hand, tonight you fussed in your crib at about 11pm. i went and picked you up and brought you out to the couch for a snuggle. you laid your head on my chest, snuggled your legs in my lap and fell back asleep. i sat there and stared at you. after a few minutes, you reached your hand up and rested it on my cheek. i whispered, "i love you baby". and as if it was a part of your dreams you mumbled, "my mama".





i wont deny that about 4 hours before that happened i was sitting on that very same couch fighting tears of frustration because you wanted your shoes both on and off at the EXACT SAME TIME and you were apparently trying to summons child protective services by screaming like i was trying to burn you with a lit shoe or whip you with some baby tube socks...

this too shall pass. right?





this month we've learned a lot about each other. you've learned that i don't enjoy chicken and stars poured down my cleavage. while i've learned that you don't enjoy chicken and stars. you've learned that i've been trying to trick you into watching cartoons at 7am so i can sleep longer. while i've learned that you know how to turn the tv off. you've learned that if you scream in the car i will put on the wheels on the bus song. i've learned that you don't notice that my brain is melting and my ears are bleeding by the 15th time the wipers go swish swish swish.

swish swish swish.

swish swish swish.





lets not forget your new tricks for the month! this month you've perfected "high five", "low five" and "pound it". you can put on a pair of sunglasses, and a hat. you've mastered the art of running. and spinning in circles. you grew a bunch of teeth in the back on your mouth and can now take actual human bites of things and chew them up. you learned a bunch of new words such as "wuh" (walk), "eee-oh" (cheerio), "din" (dinner), "anamo" (animal), & "pweez" (givemeadamnedgranolabarbiatch). i am so proud. genius. you're like doogie howser, but a lot more stylish.





this month you experienced your first moderate earthquake. you were at school when it happened so i didn't get to see if you enjoyed it as much as i did. but when i called your teacher she confirmed the following:

miss teacher chick: hello?
me: hi, it's claire's mom.
miss teacher chick: hi.
me: did any large objects fall on claire's head?
miss teacher chick: no
me: are there still walls to keep the children from running into the street.
miss teacher chick: yes.
me: i ordered my child stirred, not shaken. can i get a refund?
miss teacher chick: what?
me: what? ok thanks bye.

so we're ok. the only damage in the condo was the bedroom door had swung shut and trapped the cat in there. i wonder if i can sue FEMA for emotional damage inflicted upon ava.





being a mama is hard. as you get older its getting harder and harder to do it alone. i'm trying really hard to be patient and loving. when i get frustrated with your fits of rage i keep telling myself... "i can't wait until she's old enough to understand why she can't both wear and not wear her shoes at once...", but then i realize that these little tantrums you throw are the last bit of "baby" left in you. they are the last bit of stroller ridin', bottle drinkin', pacifier suckin' baby. the next time i blink my eyes you'll be wearing an ugly hannah montana hoodie and asking me if boys have vaginas. so i'm just going to sit here. with my eyes wide open. watching you turn beet red, scream like a mental person, bury your face into the carpet and kick your feet... with one shoe off, and one shoe on.



love you for a billion more blinks,

mama