This is the kind of post I write for my own memories, so I will apologize in advanced for clogging up my blog with sentimental drivel.
My dear Bailey,
Wow, you are three already today! Call me a sap, but I almost cried several times today when I looked at you and realized how much you’ve grown up already. You have morphed from a toddler into a little girl and somehow I didn’t even see it happen until it was too late. Had I noticed, I would have grabbed on like a drowning person and tried to hold onto it for a little while longer. Don’t get me wrong, I love the stage of life you are in now. It’s so fun to sing with you and read to you and laugh with you and have great little conversations with you that reveal how your little brain is soaking up everything around you like a cacti after a desert rain. But it just went by far too fast, and I mourn the loss of my baby girl.
You were by far my easiest baby, Bailey. You slept through the night from an early age, you drank from a bottle, you took a soother, you were happy and content all the time, you loved your long afternoon naps…in short you were a mother’s dream baby. And then you got older and your fire cracker personality emerged. At first, your dad and I didn’t know what to do with you. We were used to your easy going, eager-to-please older brother. We suddenly found that the parenting skills we had spent two years honing and perfecting were as useless as tissue paper in a rainstorm.
I have always said you are like Jekyll and Hyde. You are the sweetest thing in the world but you try my patience so very very much. I try to remember that your strong-willed personality is a good thing, that it means you know what you want and that you’re healthy and smart. But man, sometimes it’s not easy parenting a child like you. Add to the mix your knack for throwing a tantrum to rival Christian Bale and your dad and I have our work cut out for us. You like to disobey, and when you get in trouble you cry your little heart out and insist on a hug. Admittedly, it’s often the last thing I feel like doing. But it’s a good way to calm my anger. And then you usually say something like, “I still wuv you, Mama,” and I remember what life is all about.
But truth be told, little girl, I wouldn’t have you any other way. I may yell at you more than I care to admit, but you bring so much joy and laughter and life into our home. You are always giggling and singing and making the house a happy place to be. Except when you tease your brother. Which you do a lot. Then the house if full of screeching and squabbling. I love how you talk with your expressive blue eyes and your little energetic hands. I love how you always want to help me in the kitchen, even though it takes infinitely longer and we usually get into a fight because you are not listening and you do things like lick the spoon and put it back in the bowl or put eight scoops of soap in the dishwasher after I explicitly told you to put two in.
I don’t know whether you’re centre of gravity is still ironing out the kinks or if your brain moves too fast for your body, but you are the klutziest little thing. You are always falling or bumping your head or getting hurt in a variety of other creative ways. I feel so bad for your boo boos, but the snuggles I get out of the deal are a guilty bonus and I love being able to comfort you.
Bailey, I know that so very soon you will be all grown up so I will try my best to cherish these times, because they will be gone before I know it. When you are in the middle of a meltdown, I can’t promise to cherish that particular moment, but no matter what, I will always cherish you, my love. My little girl.