Dear Mia, Part 17

You are five now. Five. You are a kid now, not a baby, or a toddler, or even really a preschooler, but a kid. When people say these years go by in a flash, I never could have believed how true that is.

You graduated from preschool yesterday, and I was completely taken off guard by how SAD I am about it. Your preschool experience has been really wonderful for both of us. Your teachers and your classmates recognized how special you are. I got to help in the classroom and get to know your peers and their parents. I got a front row seat to your school experience. I am going to deeply miss bringing you in three mornings a week and standing out in the hallway before school started, watching you greet your friends with whatever news you had from the past few days apart. You were always so excited about school and bounced right in to the classroom, and I'm so glad I got to be a part of that. Some mornings I was frazzled and frustrated that you and your sister weren't moving fast enough, and now realizing how much I'll miss those moments, I wish I'd savored them more.

For five years now it's been you and me (and Gracie) every single day, and when you go off to kindergarten that will all be changing. You'll be going off (mostly) on your own, and oh, it is so hard on my heart. If you ever wonder about my decision to be a stay-at-home-mom (and I know it's not right for everyone, and may not even be right for you), know that it was absolutely the right choice for our everyone in our family, and I've never (not one time) regretted it. I would relive the past five years over and over, if I could.

For your birthday you and I went on a road trip. We went to visit my friend Pam and her daughters for a night, then we went to Schenectady to see The Lion King musical and spend a night in a hotel. It was a memory I will keep close forever. You've loved The Lion King movie for a few years now, and I've always wanted to see the show. It was like going on a trip with a friend, we had so much fun. 

I took you to the doctor for your five-year well-check last month and when the doctor came in she said, "Let's see how Mia is growing," then she reviewed your height and weight and your growth curves and said, "Well, Mia is a giant." You are in the 91st percentile for height and the 83rd percentile for weight and you look like an adult compared to most of your classmates. You lost your first tooth in November and your second a month later, and if I didn't birth you myself I'd start questioning your age. The dentist said once your front teeth come out you should stop sucking your thumb, but we're all a bit in denial about that. To me, it is your last hold-over from babyhood. You started sucking your thumb when you were 15 weeks old, and I almost fell over dead from the cuteness. I think I will be really sad when you stop. 

You are also reading chapter books and doing a first-grade-level math workbook your dad bought you. You are brilliant and always desperate to learn more more more. You want to know everything there is to know about everything. 

We got a puppy in March. You had been begging to get a dog for about a year, and for some silly reason your dad and I agreed. We went to the animal shelter and you and your dad fell in love with this scared little Australian Shepard mix that you named Clover. She is the sweetest dog, and you have been so good about taking her outside and taking her for walks.

You had your end-of-the-year dance recital last week, and you just love performing. Your teacher had repeatedly told the class to practice outside of class, but I didn't try to force it on you. You wanted to practice over and over again. Then you wanted to relive the whole thing the day after the recital. You are a star, kid. Whatever it means for your future, whether you end up performing for a living or simply lighting up every room you walk into, you are a bright and shining star. 

We registered you for kindergarten in March. Soon enough you will have a school life entirely separate from me. As I can see this on the horizon, I start to feel apprehensive and scared for all the messages and information that will come at you when I'm not around. Obviously, this is a part of growing up. I can't always be there to filter the world for you, but, for five years now your dad and I have been the main influencers in your life. Next year we probably won't be anymore. 

You've been having a tough time at school with your friend Johnny. You think he is just the coolest, and he might be a bit more lukewarm on you. You want to play with him all day every day, but he sometimes tells you he doesn't like you or doesn't want to play with you, which makes you sad. This breaks my heart, not only because he doesn't see how wonderful you are, but because you seem to let his nastiness affect you so much. We've talked so much about how every other child in the class loves you and would love to play with you. We've talked about standing up for yourself and telling him he makes you feel bad. Last week when we said these things to you, his mother was helping in the classroom and heard. She told you, "he didn't mean it," and "boys just act that way," and "boys just do that for attention," and I got very prickly when I heard all that. I'm sure it was just a flippant remark from a mom wanting the conflict to end, but I hate the message it sent, and it seems obvious he acts that way because he's never held responsible for his actions. We talked a lot about how not all boys are mean. You have many male friends and cousins who are kind and sweet and would never say anything mean to you. 

I've spent five years going out of my way not to label people. You've never heard me call someone "fat" or "ugly." You've never heard me say anything was specifically "for girls." You'd never even heard someone called "black" until a few months ago. I think often when we label people we are also subconsciously defining these labels as "good" or "bad." I do this, not because I think I can shelter you from all of this, but I hope by the time you go out into the world you'll have formed your own opinions and have decided that these labels are mostly "indifferent," and say more about the person doing the labeling then about the person being labeled. Recently you said mater-of-factly that you'd noticed a girl in your class was "chunky." I very delicately asked you about it. "Does that matter?" Nope. You were just noticing, as you would notice the sun in shining today. 

As the responsibility of raising two daughters in today's society falls hard on my shoulders, I find myself becoming an aggressive feminist. I find myself dreaming of what kind of women I hope you and your sister are someday, not so I can mold you to some ideal, but so I can help guide you with what I believe are the skills and traits you already have.

I hope you are assertive and fierce, but still warm and kind and nurturing. I hope you stand up for yourself and never back down when you know in your heart you are right. I hope you are not jealous, there is enough success and beauty and confidence to go around. Just because another woman is moving mountains does not mean that you can't do the same (but it also doesn't mean you have to if you are not so inclined). I hope once you've reached great heights you turn and lend a hand to the woman behind you. I hope you turn heads with your confidence. I hope you know that you can do any job a man can do, and you deserve equal pay and equal recognition. I hope you don't accept stereotypes. I hope you surround yourself with people who build you up because you don't deserve anything less. I hope you fall in love and that person sees wonderful nuances in you that you didn't even know existed. 

This is very very important, because it's something that only hit me recently, when I really stopped to hear these words and what they mean: I hope your self worth is not defined by how you look. A man does not go out into the world expected to be treated differently if he is having a bad hair day or if he's not wearing make up or if his clothes are not flattering to his body type. Those thoughts have never even crossed a man's mind. I don't know that I can hope they never cross your mind, but I hope it's rare. You are beautiful, but you are so many other things. 

Mia Jane, I stand constantly in awe of you. You are so different from me. You are the type of girl I would have wanted desperately to be friends with. You are amazing, and I hope you always know I think so. 

Dear Mia, Part 16

Well, holy cow, I had no idea it had been over a year since I sat down to record you.

In a way, not much has changed. Your personality bloomed and stayed that way, but a lot has happened in the past year I feel the need to remember.

The first thing I think of if I need to describe you is how FRIENDLY you are. Mia, that is not a word I would ever use to describe myself, you definitely get that from your father, and I am solidly okay with that, but I couldn't be more in awe of how easily you make friends and how kind and nurturing you are to all of your peers. 

You draw pictures and write notes to all your classmates at school. You are sad when a particularly shy child doesn't want to play with you. You reach out of every single one of your classmates. You definitely have your crew that you play with the most, but you never exclude anyone. Three or four moms from the class have approched me to tell me (and sometimes thank me) for how kind and nurturing you are to everyone in the class. I am so incredibly proud that this is the mark you are leaving on people, but at the same time I don't really feel like I can take credit for any of it. You were born a shining star. 

Last year there was a boy in your class named Abe that you said you loved and he adored you back. All summer you said you were going to marry him. Unfortunately, he is now at a different preschool, but you've latched onto a new little boy named Johnny. I couldn't have imagined that at 4 I'd be counseling you on not smothering a boy and worrying that you were being distracted from school by boys. Lord help us in your teenage years!

Over the summer you begged me to teach you to read. Grandma bought you some early readers and we joined the library's summer reading program that required you to read for 20 minutes a day, and now I'd say you are a reader. You can pick up most early readers and figure them out. 

You also learned to ride a two-wheeler this summer. It's obvious what things in life are important to your dad and me by what skills you picked up this summer. 

You and your sister play together quite a bit, but girl, you are bossy. And your sister is no doormat. So I spend a lot of time refereeing. You want to script out every game you play with her and get mad if she doesn't understand what's going on or loses interest and wanders off. It's either you bossing her around or the two of you wrestling until someone gets hurt. Pretty exhausting. I'm trying to step back and let you guys work some things out on your own, but it often ends in tears. 

You still love to play with your stuffed animals more than anything. You play a lot of imaginary games by yourself. You love writing and making up stories. You love any sort of craft. You go through stacks of paper coloring and drawing every day. You love looking at books. You love maps. You love helping in the kitchen. You still love to sing and perform.

You had a dance recital in May for tap and ballet, and as your class entered the stage the whole audience did a collective "aaaawwwwe," and you gave 110% percent. While other girls froze with stage fright or had to look around at others to remember the steps, you just got up there and danced your little heart out. 

Over the summer you took gymnastics and dance classes. You also took a swimming class and are so close to swimming on your own without any floaties. Next summer you'll be there for sure. This fall you did soccer. There were only 2 other girls in the class with about 15 boys and you were not the least bit intimidated by anyone. 

You are a giant among your classmates. You are one of the oldest and definitely one of the biggest. You are as tall as your cousin Abby who is almost 6.

You still love school. You are going 3 mornings a week now. Honestly, if I could have put you in kindergarten this fall I would have. But going from only 2 mornings a week to three has suddenly put into sharp focus that soon enough you will be at school more than you are home with me. For four plus years now you've been my side kick, and soon you'll be having so many of your experiences apart from me. I'm not often nostalgic, but this is a hard thing for me.

A few weeks ago you told me you wanted an American Girl doll and all my childhood dreams of passing down my own dolls to my daughter someday came true. Now we are making our way through the Molly and Kirsten books, which is an interesting experience as the Molly books talk about World War II and bombs and the Kirsten books begin with her best friend dying of cholera. Education! 

Over the summer you got to do lots of new things like see fireworks, go to a minor league baseball game and go camping. This is one of my favorite parts of parenting, getting to relive all of these firsts through you. 

You also got your ears pierced and did not even flinch, you only cried when I noticed your lip quivering and said, "It's okay to cry," but you stopped immediately when you were offered a Lollypop. I had some mixed up guilt afterward about the message I was sending that "beauty is pain" or something, but you seem to love having your ears pierced, so all is well. 

Grandma and Grandpa moved at the beginning of the summer and now live only about 15 minutes away. I am just so excited that you get to have a relationship with them I never really got to have with my own grandparents. You've had a few sleepovers at their house and we get to see them a few times a week now. 

For Halloween you dressed as a Dalmatian because you love 101 Dalmatians and your favorite character on Paw Patrol is a Dalmatian. In a world of little girls dressed as princesses, you definitely make a statement dressed as a dog. Not that you (or I) are trying to make statements, but I find it so fascinating how uninterested you are by the princess culture for the most part. 

I don't usually do this, but I feel compelled this time to talk a bit about things that are going on in the world today. There is a deep sense of unrest, at least for me. There are horrific terrorist attacks, far too much gun violence, and racial tension. But in the last year we've also seen the federal government recognize gay marriage. Things are so scary but so hopeful at the same time. I write about this hoping that you might look back knowing the world you grew up in and seeing how far we've come. Hopefully this fear will all be a distant memory. If I've done nothing else by bringing you and your sister into this world at least let us tip the scales even a hair in the direction of love and acceptance and peace. 

Favorite colors: purple and pink

Favorite TV shows: My Little Pony, Paw Patrol

Favorite movies: The Muppets movies, 101 Dalmatians, The Lion King

Favorite foods: Pancakes, fruit, grilled cheese, hot dogs, any kind of ice cream, candy, baked goods

Favorite books: The Nutcracker, American Girl books

Dear Mia, Part 15

Well, gosh, I started writing this back at the end of March... 7 months ago. This is what I wrote then:

Mia, we just celebrated your 3rd birthday, and I hope it was as fun for you as it was for me. If the last few weeks are any indication of what your 3rd year will be like, I can't wait to see what's to come. The wild, erratic, tantrum-throwing toddler has turned into a hilarious, energetic, well-behaved kid.

I try to tell you as often as I can what a GOOD girl you are. You no longer scream the whole time we're grocery shopping. You sit patiently in waiting rooms without me having a bag full of distractions. Meal times are no longer a battleground. You go to bed at night without getting up 15 times before morning, and you rarely take naps anymore, but you play independently in your room for an hour or so in the afternoons, usually without too much intervention.

For your birthday I tried to fit in as much fun for you as I could. When I asked you what you wanted for lunch if you could eat anything, you told me you wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but I convinced you maybe french fries were a loftier goal, so we got you a McDonalds Happy Meal and you sat on the living room floor watching Frozen while eating it. Afterward we went to Build-a-Bear because there is just nothing you love more in this world than stuffed animals. It was perfect for you, filling a puppy dog with stuffing, bathing it, picking out an outfit for it. Then we went to the merry-go-round in the mall, because that's probably your second favorite thing in life. We made cupcakes and had grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. Then the following day we had your birthday party at Bounce-it-Out. Every single one of your favorite people came, all your cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents, neighbors and friends. It was just so awesome to see you so happy, holding hands with one friend while jumping, then going down a giant slide on a cousin's lap.

You are obsessed with the movie Frozen right now. You love Olaf, the snowman, and often wonder aloud if perhaps he will visit us one day. I made you a snowman a few weeks ago, which you named Olaf and then spent a good 30 minutes talking to and trying to feed. When you accidentally knocked him over, tears were shed. You can sing along with the entire soundtrack, and you do multiple times a day into your toy microphone, with much emotion. And this may be our first foray into the world of loving princesses, because you LOVE Princess Anna. I was beginning to think we might bypass all of that, but it seems not.

2 and a half was a rough age for me, and our family was in a big transition, but I finally feel like I've got my fun little sidekick back.

You really are better with your sister than I could have ever imagined. A lot of the time you are just indifferent to her, but you pick toys up for her when she drops them, you often crouch down on the floor with her to kiss on her and talk to her. Most impressive is that her crying doesn't bother you. We've gone through a rough patch with her sleeping so we've been hearing her scream a lot lately, and miraculously it doesn't seem to fray your nerves as it does mine, and often you sleep right through it.

And now, you are 3 1/2, and I don't even know where to begin!

You started pre-school in September and you LOVE it. You only go 2 mornings a week, but you ask every day if it is a school day. You are making your own friends, and I am just so excited for you to have your own little life separate from me, to see how your personality flourishes all on its own. You are so very outgoing, running up to your classmates to give them long, awkward hugs (we're working on that) and telling your teachers all about things going on in your life. You ask cashiers in stores what their names are, and then introduce them to your little sister. You are so confident and self-assured, and I hope that nothing ever puts a damper on that.

You take a dance class on Saturdays where you do tap and ballet and you do a little class after pre-school on Tuesdays called Sporty Sprouts where you are introduced to a bunch of different sports. You love both. You look a swim class through the Y this summer and it was amazing to see how much more comfortable you became in the pool just over the course of 7 or 8 weeks.

You love your sister. You are desperate for her to learn to play with you, and it's happening slowly. She'll laugh manically as you run circles around her in a toddler version of "chase." You guys hug and kiss each other, but also push each other out of the way to sit on my lap.

We have our rough days, where you fall apart over little things and don't want to use your words. But mostly you are funny and smart and inquisitive. You ask SO. MANY. QUESTIONS. I told you earlier today that Gracie watched Sesame Street while you were at school and then had to answer 300 questions about what episode it was, what Elmo was singing about, etc. etc. etc.

We had lots of fun this summer. We took a trip with my side of the family to the Outer Banks in North Carolina and you had so much fun. Every day you played in the ocean and the pool and the sand and every night we had a slumber party with your cousins. It was such a great week.

We also visited the zoo, a few farms to pet the farm animals, the pool at Camp Arrowhead, the museum, every playground in a five mile radius, and spent every afternoon out in our yard.

We moved in April to a bigger house, and you adapted quickly, only sad about leaving behind our neighbor Kassie whom you used to play with every day. But you have made a new friend down the street who is about a year younger than you, named Molly. And you love the swing set we inherited in our yard.

You love to make up songs and dress up in crazy outfits. You love to play with your play kitchen making me wild concoctions of foods. You love to draw and paint and read and do puzzles.

Halloween is next week and you are going as Ladybug Girl. I love that the last two years you have chosen to be characters from books.

Oh Mia, I know it's probably cliche to say, but you are a joy. When we are at your school or the library and you are chattering away or singing and dancing without a care, people always notice you -you are the absolute opposite of a wallflower - and I am SO PROUD that you are mine. I wonder a million times a day where the heck you came from. You certainly didn't get this outgoing personality from me. But, man, I think it's amazing. Sure, the flip side is you can get awfully sassy, but I honestly wouldn't have it any other way. Your mama thinks you are one of the coolest people in the world, and I hope you always know that.

Favorite Shows: Strawberry Shortcake, Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, Paw Patrol
Favorite Movies: Frozen, Rio
Favorite Color: Purple
Favorite Songs: Let it Go (Frozen), Boom Clap (Charli XCX), Fancy (Iggy Azalea)
Favorite Foods: Sweets, yogurt, bagels & cream cheese, fruit snacks
Favorite Books: Elephant & Piggie books, Ladybug Girl books, Fancy Nancy books

Dear Mia: Part 14

Here you are, a few weeks from being 3. I have started this entry twice before, and now here we are 6 months after the last entry.

I started this entry once when things were in a very bad place, when I was very pregnant with your sister and you were acting out in ways I had never seen before. You found out how to push your boundaries and you've been pushing ever since. And now you are 35 months old, and our days are a pendulum swinging wildly between a sweet, smart cherub and an attention-starved, rage-driven demon. This stage of parenting calls on so much more mental stamina than ever before. I see the stark contrast between the physical stamina I must practice with your infant sister; the sleep deprivation, the learning to do everything with only one hand while carrying a baby. I can do that all day long without breaking a sweat. But you, you are calling upon every inch of my patience and intellect to keep up with you. I cannot just react. It is no longer just muscle memory with you. Oh, and it is hard, and some days I don't think I'm cut out for it. Some days you spend more time in time-out than out of it. Some days I think I've screwed this all up. You just seem to wander around the house like a wrecking ball doing naughty things.

But still, I look at you, really look at you, a dozen times a day and listen to your little voice that still can't pronounce the letter "R," and I remember that you are just a tiny little girl. That I have to guide you. That you are learning from every move I make, nothing is lost on you, that I have to be the very best example of a human being for you. It's so much to live up to. But then we have really good days where you just blow my mind with how smart, polite, kind, sweet and funny you can be. And I think maybe, just maybe I'm not doing too bad.

You love to sing and dance, making up songs all day. You are obsessed with Katy Perry's Roar and watching you sing and dance along with this song makes my heart want to burst out of my chest. You request I play Roar, Darius Rucker's Wagon Wheel and Pharrell's Happy on repeat (we've finally moved far enough past Christmas that you've stopped requesting "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas").

You have done better with your new little sister than I could have ever imagined. Thankfully any frustration you have about not having my full attention has been directed at me and not at her. You do sometimes act out the second I turn my back to tend to her. When she was first born you were adamant that she was NOT coming home with us, but you are so so sweet with her now. You sing to her when she cries and love to show her toys. As expected you can get a little rough with her, smothering her with kisses or yanking on her arms and legs like she's a doll. 

You NEVER. STOP. TALKING. I'm serious. Never. This alone doesn't drive me bonkers, but the fact that you MUST get a response from someone about everything you say is maddening. And often you're talking over me giving the appropriate response, so you repeat yourself. 

You are human velcro most days. Every 10 minutes you are asking me to cuddle with you on the couch and then you are climbing on top of me wiggling up under my arms, sticking fingers in my face. All day long you are asking your dad and me to play with you, but playing with you means we basically just let you boss us around for as long as we can stand. Having a tea party means we must only drink our tea when you instruct, we must repeat certain phrases you shout at us, and do voices for various stuffed animals. What I'm trying to say is, you like things done a certain way, sometimes we have no idea what that "way" is until you are screaming it at us.

A few months ago I got to take you to a local library to meet the characters from your favorite books - Gerald and Piggie from Mo Willems' Elephant & Piggie books. You were bursting with excitement. You requested to wear your halloween costume so you could look like Gerald. There were only a few other children there, so you stole the show. You sat on a little couch while a librarian brought you books on command so you could read to Gerald and Piggie. You recited the books much to the librarians glee and pointed to an illustration of Piggie exclaiming "That's you, Piggie!" I stood there watching you, camera in hand, with a smile so wide I thought my face might crack in half. The librarian tried to engage me in conversation and I couldn't even speak, I was afraid I might burst into tears. It was like taking a princess-loving girl to Disney World. It was your dream come true. And this is the kind of heart-bursting joy I did not know (and find it hard to explain) before you came along. Of course now you think every character you love from books, movies and TV is real and going to come over for a playdate, but I just love your imagination.

We celebrated Christmas a few months ago. It was an exhausting day as you chose to get up in the night 4 times the night before, but it was so awesome to see your excitement about it. I think next year will be even better as you really understand it more and more.

We sold our house a few weeks ago and will be moving in April. I am so excited to get into a bigger space, but also sad about leaving this home which has always been your home. I get teary thinking about the fact that you may not even remember this place, but you've already picked out your room in the new house and we talk a lot about moving and taking all of our things with us.

I signed you up to start preschool in the fall. I'm so excited for you to start a new adventure. You are having separation anxiety I never expected however. We joined the YMCA a few months ago and the first time I took you to the Child Watch area so I could exercise, I left thinking you wouldn't miss me at all. When I came back the women there told me you had cried the whole time, only stopping when one of them sat and read books with you. The second time I brought you, you were so set on not crying that you sat at a table and colored one piece of paper with one crayon the whole time I was gone. I guess it's progress, but I was so surprised by your reaction. You seem so fearless and independent, and have never been particularly shy or a mommy's girl. It made my heart break and burst at the same time, but I have so much confidence that you will overcome it.

Favorite movie: Madagascar

Favorite TV show: Doc McStuffins, Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse

Favorite color: Purple

Favorite food: Sweets, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, bagels and cream cheese

Favorite song: Roar by Katy Perry

Favorite Book: Any Elephant & Piggie book

You love to color, paint, and read. You love horses, and animals in general. You are 95% potty trained, but sometimes use "accidents" as an attention-seeking device. You are still an maddeningly picky eater. You love breakfast food, but for dinner you often eat nothing, even if I make something you usually like. You don't like pizza for goodness sakes! You are still not into princesses or dolls. We took you to see Frozen a few weeks ago and your favorite character was Olaf, the snowman.

I can't believe you are almost 3. It's such a cliche, but it really feels like it was just yesterday that I was pregnant with you, dreaming about what life would be like as a mom. You are just the most amazing, beautiful, sassy, exuberant little girl I've ever met, and I am so so proud to be your mom.

Dear Mia: Part 13

Mia, you are almost 29 months old now, and I have been writing, rewriting and editing this post for probably the past 3 months. Things change so fast lately. You are so BIG all of a sudden. You are a person with complex emotions and long legs and complete thoughts.

 I wrote this 2 or 3 months ago (I was feeling like we were careening into a possibly dark place):
"This age is so hard for me, so so hard. I'm just going to go ahead and admit that I am not a patient person (but you already knew that), and every waking moment you are testing what tiny shred of patience I have. You scream at me, talk back, and throw fits at the drop of a hat. Your mood is volatile at best. I'm sure most if this is completely normal toddler behavior, but some nights I go to bed certain that I have completely screwed up as a mom.

Naps are hit or miss these days. I'm terrified of what this means when the baby comes and I need to rest, but so many things can change in the next 2 months, I'm trying not to feel too in despair."

But just a few months later and I feel like things are so EASY right now. You play independently so that I can get things done around the house. You follow directions pretty well. You are funny and sweet and brilliant. We are in a groove with eating and sleeping (not that either of those things are in an ideal place, but I am accepting where we are). And in just a few months your baby sister will be here to throw us all into a tailspin again. I try not to be to scared about that, I am trying to just revel in how every day lately has it's own rhythm that we manage to ride out without too much catastrophe. Yes, you are difficult and strong willed and throw tantrums (you are 2 after all, it's not all rainbows and sunshine over here), but you are my little side kick right now, and I just want to cherish every moment alone with you cuddled up to my giant belly sucking your thumb and stroking my arm.

Sometimes (okay, about a hundred times a day) I am completely caught off guard and left breathless by how beautiful you are. And I say this knowing that I love you more than anyone in the world, but hoping that you know I'm trying to be subjective. You are just gorgeous in such a pure, round-faced, rosy-cheeked way. I notice it and attempt to capture it in a picture and it simply does not translate, so I stare harder trying to burn the image of you at this very moment into my brain, because you are walking, breathing beauty.

We went to West Virginia for a wedding a few months ago where you got to meet a lot of my extended family you had never seen before. You charmed the pants off of everyone there. My aunt sent me an email a few weeks later going on and on about how smart and sweet you are.

You still love pretend games. You also make up imaginary friends often to play with. Usually it's a friend named Goofy playing chase with you, sometimes it's an imaginary monkey you push in the swing in the backyard. Sometimes you pick up rocks or wood chips on the playground and then push them in the swing or down the slide like they are playmates. You talk to your food and sometimes make your hands fight over a toy or a snack.

You seem to be getting excited about the idea of your baby sister. You lift my shirt and command me to "open up baby sister." You give me/her check ups with your doctor kit and bend over my belly button shouting, "Hello baby sistah!" You tell me how when she comes out you will hold her and feed her and her first word will be "Mia." I just can't wait to see the two of you grow up together. I can't wait for us to be a complete family.

You have begun to exhibit fears about a lot of things. Sometimes you are scared of the bathtub, sometimes it is a character on a TV show. You are often scared of strange men or boys. Whenever we talk about having a new experience or going to a new place you have to talk yourself into by saying, "It will not be scary. Mommy will be right here." Of course a healthy fear in life is necessary to not get yourself into dangerous situations, but I attempt to walk a fine line of not encouraging it too much. You are still quite fearless when it comes to climbing and playgrounds and water.

We moved you into your new big girl room with a real twin bed a few nights ago. You were (and still are) so very excited about your new room and new bed. You tell me several times a day, "I love my new room!" And your room makes me so happy now too because you love it so much. The transition was painless. I'm always so nervous to change any of your sleeping habits, but you've proven to be far more flexible than I ever expected.

At the moment I am attempting you potty train you. You seem to do best with just being thrown into things. You're not so good with slow transitions, so I thought that was the way to go. I didn't think about how hard it would be on ME though. It's frustrating to have someone peeing all over your house for days with no end in sight, but I'm trying not to show you my frustration and to be encouraging when you go on the potty. I think you are ready, it's just taking longer than I had hoped. 

Almost everything that comes out if your mouth lately makes me laugh. You try to skirt around being told no by answering, sweetly with "But we will see," or "But you can try!" You say "yessiree!" and "Aw, shucks" when I kiss you. On the flip side you snap at me "Don't talk to me that way," and "Stop bossing me!"

You call lemonade "lemomade" (which is made from "lemomens"). You call toilet paper simply "toe-let," and I've begged your dad not to correct you. Flowers are "flah-lers," and color is "clah-ler." You pronounce triangle "twi-ninnal." You still don't pronounce Ks, Rs or hard Gs.

You were such a healthy baby, but since February you have had a stomach bug (which you very kindly shared with your parents), bronchitis, ringworm, and most recently a urinary tract infection. You had a high fever for nearly a week, and your dad and I did not sleep due to our worry about you. I can't even imagine what it must be like for parents with children with life threatening illnesses. I want nothing else in this life than for my loved ones to be healthy and for my babies to outlive me.

Oh Mia Jane, every day you exceed my wildest expectations of what it would be to be a mom and to love a little one. I still look at you and can't believe you're mine, that you came from me. I am so beyond excited about what the next few months holds for our family. 

Favorite TV show: Mickey Mouse Clubhouse

Favorite movie: The Tigger Movie

Favorite books: Mo Willems Elephant & Piggie books and Anna Dewdney Llama Llama books

Favorite color: Purple

Favorite food: Fruit, granola, ice cream

Dear Mia: Part 12

Oh Mia, you turned 2 three weeks ago, and I just now have a moment to sit and write to you. Life is moving so so fast right now, and I don't know if I can do the past several months justice during one single naptime, but I'll try! You are a handful right now. You are funny and whip-smart and stubborn and willful and testing me at every turn. 

Your birthday was so much fun. You celebrated first in Buffalo with dad's family (and it was also AJ's first birthday), then came your real birthday, then we had a party at our house with my side of the family and some friends. You were must excited about CAKE. You did not care about anything else (well, you were also insistent that we wear party hats). You shouted to anyone within distance that it was your birthday and you would have CAKE! Once you caught on to the present aspect of the holiday you were pretty excited about that too.

 

Your birthday overshadowed Easter, but you also enjoyed hunting for eggs and eating the treats inside. 

About a month ago our neighbor Angie cut your hair. It was beginning to resemble a mullet, and I'm a little upset with myself that I let it get as bad as it did, because it looks so cute now. It is thicker and the color of a wheat field, and now you look like such a little KID.

Some other highlights of recent months:
Whenever you are freed from the confines of your clothing you run through the house shouting, "Nakey booty on the loose!"

You still call the hood of your coat a "neighborhood." You pronounce "orange" "or-shan" Call the cats "Lessa" (Tesla, although you've been pronouncing it correctly recently) and "Tonrad" (Conrad). Paper towels are "wiper towels." Piano is "pinano." You pronounce "nine," like "noin."

You call inanimate objects "fella." You'll pick up your cup of milk and carry if off with you saying, "Come on, fella."

Lately when I tell you that you can't do something you replay with, "No, but I can try." I like your can-do attitude, but no, there are some things I just won't let you do.

You love to pretend. One of your favorite things to do is play with you little kitchen and all of your stuffed animals. You pretend to cook for them and feed them. You also love to put diapers on them and dress them up. You frequently pretend we're having a birthday party at which we wear pretend hats and blow out pretend candles on a pretend cake. Or you pretend we are at the beach looking for sea shells and building sand castles.

You are so so sweet, giving hugs at any moment. When I cry you pat me and say "it's okay, mommy, it's okay" (or in one heartbreaking instance you burst into tears yourself). You declare your love for things loudly and passionately. You declare your love for anything and everything without hesitation... except your parents. You chase Conrad around the house and then sigh longingly and say, "I love him." (Sometimes you add "He is my best friend.") You randomly declare your love for Uncle Timmy or Uncle Brian. But rarely do you tell me you love me without prompting. When you do I stop whatever I'm doing to take it in.

You like to rhyme, often singing The Name Game Song ("Mia fia bo bia, etc.) or just rhyming silly things, like calling me "Mommy Dommy."

We have actual conversations now. You have thoughts completely independent from me or whatever is going on immediately around you. You tell stories. You recall events that happened months ago or explain to me what happened on an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. The other day you were drawing with sidewalk chalk and you told me you were drawing a heart. Then you said, "This heart fell down and got hurt. I will draw another one to make him feel better." I was blown away at that exchange on so many levels. The compassion, the creativity, the fact that POOF, you invented this story out of thin air!

I always hesitate to say it, because I know every parent thinks their child is a brilliant, unique snowflake, but Mia you are SMART. You just are. I don't know if I can take credit for any of it, or if it's just atoms colliding, but you blow my mind a million times a day.

We are also dealing with how to discipline you at the moment. You are a tantrum-throwing, boundary-pushing 2 year-old. It is so frustrating in the moment, but in quieter moments (like now), I can barely remember what had me so mad, so I'll just leave it here for posterity's sake, so that if I go back and read this one day I'll know you weren't the perfect angel I've conjured you up to be in my memories.

You are so very enthusiastic about life, just like your dad. And you have a big personality like him. You charm strangers and fill up a room without even realizing it. Your intent is not to capture everyone's attention, you just DO. You talk and sing and shout your excitement to anyone in earshot. You exclaim, "Mommy, I am so excited to (fill in the blank)!" often. I prefer to fly under the radar, but you don't allow it. I should probably start washing my hair more often if I'm going to be your wing woman.

When I imagine you having a sibling I always imagine you as a younger sibling. Which is next to impossible, clearly. It's probably because you are around older kids a lot with your cousins and neighbors, but its also because you are enamored with older kids in general and have next to zero interest in babies. You rarely play with your dolls. Babies basically do not exist to you unless we command you to "kiss the baby!" And you will before running off to something more important.

Hopefully this will change when you have a baby sibling of your own in just a few short months. Yes, life is about to change in a big way, my love, and I will readily admit that I am terrified. You are so perfect and fill my heart to capacity that I cannot imagine anyone taking my attention from you or my heart getting any fuller. But, I've always known that I wanted you to have a sibling. I want another child, of course, but I also think it's a great gift to be able to give you a brother or a sister, someone who will always know where you come from and (hopefully) where you are going. I can't wait to see how you change and grow with this experience.

You don't seem to have absorbed it much, although you will sometimes randomly point to my belly and say, "There's a baby in there." You have requested a brother, and wish to name him Santa, in case anyone is granting wishes. You like to give me check-ups with your pretend doctor kit and you always put the stethoscope on my belly to listen for the baby's heartbeat.

And now I'm at a total loss as to a closing here, but if I don't stop now I'll write a novel. You are amazing, that's really all there is to say. Your dad and I look at each other every day and laugh and say, "Seriously? This is our kid? How awesome is she?"

Dear Mia: Part 11

You are almost 21 months old now, and I have to say this age is HARD. You are naughty with little concept of consequences. You hit, you kick, you bite, you throw things. You follow directions one minute, then completely ignore me the next. I am realizing that this age is as much a test for me, and a learning experience for me, as it is for you. I sometimes expect a bit too much of you because of how bright you are, I forget how young you still are. But even so, sometimes taking you out in public is like going out with a drunk girlfriend. I know you KNOW how to behave, but for the moment you are short on the resources to do so.

I also realize that any naughty behavior is purely for attention at this point, in fact, if you are being naughty while I am not in the room you will tattle on yourself, shouting, "Mia standing on chair!" which you know you're not supposed to do.

You ask "Wuh-sat?" about everything, even things you know. A million times a day I am answering "What IS that? Do you know?" And now it was morphed into "Wuh-sat, right dere?" usually said while pointing at a total stranger in the grocery store. Or "Wuh-sat -blank- doin?" Which is actually pretty funny, like the other day when you pointed to the button on my coat and said "Wuh-sat button doin?" 

We talk about Christmas a lot, and my genius idea was to take you to see the mall Santa several times in the hopes that you would eventually sit on his lap for a picture, but it has totally backfired as we've been three times now and you just seem to get more scared of him every time. The first time you walked right up and high fives him. The second time you walked right up, but stood in front of him shaking with fear, and the third time you wouldn't even wave to him as we walked past. In fact you often mutter to yourself, "Sit Santa's lap?" And then shake your head with a scowl, "No. No. No."

You are, however obsessed with Rudolph which you only refer to as "Roof-off Red-nose Reindeer Had Shiny Noooooooose." You command me to sing it several times an hour, and can finish each line yourself. If we hear it on the radio you shout with glee (see what I did there?) as if it is playing just for you. You love your Christmas pajamas that have reindeer on the feet and request I put them on you at every diaper change. You call them your "Roof-off Jams."

You sit for hours a day looking at your books. You love going to the library, sitting at the little tables and chairs and having an infinite selection to flip through. You are very into the Clifford books right now, having completely dogeared the two books we own. Whenever we visit someone else's house you seem to have a radar that hones in on where they keep the children's books and are happy to sit reading, ignoring the chaos around you. One of my favorite things in life is listening to you read books to yourself. It only takes one or two readings by us for you to essentially memorize the book and repeat it to yourself in your own little abridged language while flipping the appropriate pages.

On the flip side, the most annoying thing you do is repeat EVERYTHING you say until someone acknowledges you (in fact, as I write this I realize your dad does the same thing), and, girlfriend, you feel the need to narrate everything. I spend my entire day saying, "Yes, Elmo is red. Yes, I see you looking out the window. Yes, I HEAR Rudolph on the radio." And God help us all if your dad and I are trying to have a conversation in your presence because you will just repeat yourself until you turn blue in the face.

You are not a dancer. You love music and singing. You love jumping and climbing. You live drawing and painting, but you don't dance. This is weird to me because I can't help but tap my foot to any beat I hear and your dad likes to dance too. I just thought this was interesting to note.

Your favorite toys are probably your stuffed animals which we call your buddies.Your favorite is probably your Minnie Mouse whom you carry all over the house talking to. In fact, she is becoming your scapegoat sometimes for naughty things you know you aren't supposed to do. I hear your little voice in the other room saying, "Minnie touch Daddy's treats?" as I hear rustling in the candy bowl I thought was out of your reach, and I catch you holding Minnie up so her hand is in the bowl.

 You have become a somewhat better eater over the last couple of weeks (or maybe I have just lowered my standards). In fact, I've gotten you to eat some carrots and spinach in the last week. Some of your favorite foods are instant oatmeal, vegetarian "chicken" nuggets, yogurt, blueberries, beans, milk, peanut butter, pancakes, bacon, not mention any sweets you can get your hands on.

You are learning your colors. You cannot make hard "c" and "k" sounds. You often refer to yourself as "Mia Bo Bia." You call the hood on your coat a "neighborhood," which I totally perpetuate because I think it's awesome. You love to be tickled. You shriek with joy whenever your dad comes home from work. You are still an early bird, chirping happily at 6am every morning. You love slides. You are currently a little afraid of the shower after accidentally turning the showerhead on during bathtime.

There are some horrible, scary things going on in the world right now, my love, and my own mother tells me the only way to cope is to pull every one I love closer to me, so excuse me if I smother you with kisses and blow raspberries on your belly every hour on the hour. You are my heart personified, and I don't know what I would do if harm ever came to you, so all I can do is tell you I love you a million times a day. All I can do is hope that you know how much love surrounds you, because it is a whole lot. A whole lot, little one.

Dear Mia: Part 10

You are about 18 1/2 months old now. I started writing this post about a month ago and have had to go back and edit and rewrite a lot because you change to much, so quickly. 

You LOVE coloring and drawing - crayons, pencils, sidewalk chalk, your Magnadoodle, you love it all. You take your sidewalk chalk and walk up and down the driveway, crouching randomly to make mysterious looking marks (your dad calls them gang signs), before toddling off to scout another location. And you spend hours a day standing at the coffee table coloring in your coloring books.

You love music and singing. You try to make your dad and me sing on command by demanding specific songs. You also love to sing them yourself, but sometimes get self-conscious. Your favorites are probably Old MacDonald and The Wheels on the Bus.

You have a made up word that we cannot figure out the origin of, but we know that it roughly translates to you wanting something specific. You point and say what sounds like "mah-san" or "mah-shawn."

A few weeks ago you, your dad and I were outside and we told you we were going hunting for Dinosaurs and Elephants. You walked dutifully down the street, stopping every once in a while to crouch down, swivel your head side to side and shout, "Di-so-wah! Hey you?" (Dinosaur! Where are you?) "Eh-flat! Hey you?" (Elephant! Where are you?) It was exactly as cute as it sounds. It killed me dead. That's all I have to say about that.

You are still the pickiest of eaters. Most days you eat one decent meal and subsist on crumbs the rest of the day. I'm not sure how a person survives on ketchup and milk alone, but somehow you are still thriving. I try not to let it stress me out, I don't want to be the root of any food issues you may have down the road, but it sure is frustrating. Even more frustrating than the picky eating is the food throwing, which may just send me to an early grave, but I'll refrain from ranting about that for fear I may never stop.

We took our first trip to the ER in the middle of September. I was swinging you around by your arms and when I set you down you screamed and then wouldn't or couldn't move your right arm. Your dad and I listened to you scream for about 30 minutes as I felt increasingly positive that I was the worst mother in the entire world. We decided to take you to the hospital and I had visions of a waiting for hours, of X-rays and a tiny cast, of having to answer to a social worker. As I walked in and saw a waiting room full of kids in wheel chairs or with bloody noses, I felt like I might throw up. I couldn't stand the thought of having to sit there and wait while you were in obvious pain. But I walked up to the receptionist and told her through my own tears what had happened. She nodded to a nurse and they both agreed, "Nursemaid's elbow," and a doctor and two residents quickly ushered us to a chair in the hallway and reset your dislocated elbow right then and there. Apparently it's a really common injury among little kids, and 5 minutes later you were offered a popsicle which you reached for with your injured arm, and we were in and out in an hour. But man, I have no idea how I am going to deal with a lifetime of injuries and heart break with you. I want to wrap you in bubble wrap and never let you leave the house.

You recognize most of the letters in the alphabet. You correctly identify several different shapes. If we ask you what color something is, you always answer "green!" You can count to 14, but you always leave out the number 10. You know people's names, but if I ask you, "What is her name?" you always answer "Mia!" You call all balls "b-balls." You call potatoes "peek-a-boos" (which KILLS me every time, and I hope no one ever corrects you). You call ice cream "airplane." You insist that hippos are called "hope-ios" and that Elmo's goldfish is named Lucy (it's Dorothy). My nickname for you is Cuckoo or Cuckoo Bear. You would prefer to be naked. Always. You don't like wearing socks, but you love to have your feet tickled. When we cuddle you stroke my arm, wiggling your little hand up my shirt sleeve to touch my skin. And when my hair gets in my face you very gently try to move it out of my eyes, if you're unsuccessful you take my hand and say, "fix it, Mommy." When you suck your thumb, you rub your ear with the other hand. You've begun to suggest we do things by saying "how bout..." Like, "Mo' mote? (more milk?) No, no, how bout dooce (juice)?"

Your memory astounds me. You recognize that Wegmans is the store where you get cookies. After going to a Toddler Time gym class just once you remembered, a week later, that at gym class there was a slide and balls and you got stickers. You remember the words to countless songs and can recite some of your favorite books.

Oh, I could go on and on...

Parenting books warn against putting labels on children. We're not supposed to say, "Oh, she's my shy one," or "You're such a good girl!" We don't want to pigeonhole our children for the rest of their lives. But I find I couldn't label you if I tried. You are everything. All at once. 

Mia, you are the sun, the moon, and the stars.

I am still trying to figure you out. I will never be done figuring you out.