Letter to my Two-Year-Old Princess

Dear Lua,

One of your favorite books to read is called "The Care Bears and the Terrible Twos". It is about a little girl named Melinda who has to learn to live with her brother and sister, who are two-year-old twins. The twins are terrible. They pour syrup all over Melinda, they give her favorite doll a haircut and her best book a bath. At the end of the story they are still terrible, but they love Melinda so she decides to put up with them. The fact that you like this book so much disturbs me because you tend to commiserate not with the protagonists of stories (in this case, Melinda), but with the characters that give them the most grief. Case in point, no matter how many times you watch Cinderella, you still want to rewind the scenes with Lucifer, the evil cat, in them. So I worry that you are learning to enjoy being in the midst of the terrible twos, just like the twins. You are not terrible, Lua, but sometimes I think you are trying very very hard to be so.

Your whining is the thing that makes your father and I feel that we are being slowly tortured. I remember two things from my own childhood very clearly: 1. My mother's constant refrain "We don't speak Whinese here, Libby", and 2. My mother eventually cursing me with a child who whines as much as I did SO THAT I WOULD KNOW HOW IT FEELS. Lua, next time you see your grandma, don't forget to tell her this: Mission Accomplished.

Luckily, you have many redeeming qualities, not the least of which is eerily similar to the terrible twins in the story, your ability to be incredibly loving. I've been sick for weeks now, but I never tire of hearing your sweet voice ask me, "Feeling nice and better, Mommy?" You have brought me countless tissues and blankets (even when I didn't need them), you've cuddled with me and danced for me and made me laugh.

Yesterday there was one particular moment when it occurred to me that perhaps being two wasn't all that terrible. I was putting you in the car when it began to shower freezing rain down on our exposed necks and faces. You were shocked and yelled out "I don't like frozen rain, Mommy! Ow! Ow!". By the time we got to our destination, the rain had turned into snow but you couldn't tell the difference from inside the car. You looked positively frightened when I opened the door to let you out. "No, no!", you said, "It's owie!" "It's okay, Lua", I replied, "It's not freezing rain anymore. Look! It's snow! Snow is soft and cool." You clung to my neck as I lifted you out of your seat but eventually lifted your head as you realized you were not being pelted with ice. You looked around the soft, white world. You held your palm open to the sky. When my eyes met yours again, you were smiling. "I like snow", you whispered. In that moment, I fervently wished that we both didn't have ear infections, that I didn't have to get Charlie into the house, and that the two of us could just lay down in the silky silence of a snowy afternoon and melt snowflakes on our tongues.

Love,
Mama

Woe

I feel kind of horrible about not posting anything for Lua's birthday (she turned 2 on Dec. 13th) but I do have a good excuse, if you can call the bubonic plague good in any way. Our household is like a giant petri dish of disease and infestation, with a dash of emotional distress thrown in for good measure. Riaz, Lua and I have all been sick for weeks. Charlie's been congested practically the entire time he's been alive. We even spread our delightful ailments to the entire family next door. I finally took Lua to the doctor yesterday...it turns out that the long weeks of whining and temper tantrums can at least partially be explained by the fact that she's had an ear infection long enough to cause her ear drum to rupture and require a $100 bottle of ear drops that is roughly the size of my thumbnail. Now on top of a sinus infection and infected bits of my nose that have been rubbed off from constant contact with generic tissues, I have a guilty concience because I've lost my temper more than once this month with Lua and her never-ending stream of Whinese. It turns out my baby's had awful ear pain the entire time. I officially suck.

Adoration

Dear Charlie,

Tomorrow you will be two months old. These months have flown by so fast that I feel like I've missed something important. You are so big now - not a newborn any more. A couple of weeks ago you began fitting into 3-6 month clothes and already some of those are too small. Your belly is so huge that you are almost as wide as you are tall. People comment on this massive belly constantly, especially when you are wearing a two-piece outfit because the shirts are inevitably too short to cover it. When you are done nursing your belly button pops out like the timer on a juicy Thanksgiving turkey. Why am I telling you this? Mostly to embarass you when you are older (and slimmer).

My favorite thing about you is the sweetness of your face. You were born with your eyes wide open, looking absolutely horror stricken at what had just happened to you. This look of of complete shock stayed firmly on your face during all of your waking moments until recently. You seem to have finally accepted being out of the womb now, and you've begun to smile. Your favorite thing to do is look directly into someone's eyes and have a chat. "Agoo", you say. "Mmmmga. Owww?" And when they respond this huge grin spreads accross your face and your dimples work double time.

You love being held and cuddled. Being put down anywhere, for any reason, is a big no-no. This is quite difficult as I am usually on my own with you and your sister, and Lua is not yet willing to give up her mama's arms. Sometimes she will ask to hold you, and I will set Lua in my lap and you in her lap, and Lua will point out everything she loves about you. "Look at that nose!," she'll say. "Charlie has a mouth! I like Charlie's belly button". You tolerate her exploration for a little bit, then you begin to wail. "Charlie crying, Mommy," Lua will say in a panicked voice, "You take him!" This is always followed by shoving you off of her lap. Luckily I'm a good catcher.

I love everything about you, my little Charlie Bear, from top of your little baby combover to the bottom of your long, chubby toes. I love it when you fall asleep in my arms, and when you look at me as if you are the most innocent, trusting creature in the world (which you probably are). I want to freeze you at this age because you are growing too fast. No, scratch that. I want to freeze the whole world so that I can sit and watch you grow.

Love,
Mama