23 months+9 days

Dear Annie,





 

How did you get so big? Your birthday is this month and I can't believe you will be two. Your first birthday seems like it was both just yesterday, but also a lifetime ago. You talk more and more these days and say fun things like "TOP IT!" (stop it) and "GO WAY!" (go away). I got frustrated in the car the other day and you mimicked me perfectly. That was a real eye opener.

 

 

You are in swimming classes once a week still, but I think we will cancel for the summer. Allow me to get a little braggy and say that you are one of, if not the best, student in the class. Not necessarily at listening to instruction, but definitely at putting your head under the water. You know all the motions of the songs and will participate, if you are in the right mood. I have loved seeing your love of the water grow with each week.

 



 

You never walk. Really. You run from spot to spot in the house. From the second you get out of your crib in the morning, you are scooting here and there, and barking orders at us: BITES! WALK! BY SELF! STAIRS! WET! (I want to walk by myself downstairs to get breakfast, but first change my diaper.)

 

You still go to Jen's three days a week and I have NO IDEA how this arrangement has lasted this long. My original plan was for 6 months to maybe a year after you were born, but we love Jen so much and you love her daughters and they love you (unless you are stealing Mary Grace's stuff). I can't tell you how grateful I am that they are in our lives and that you have such a wonderful place to spend your days when you are not with us.

 

The weather is finally turning (though it's turning back to crap this weekend) and we are outside so much more.

 



You are obsessed with dandelions. Thankfully, weeds are about the only things we can grow, so there is no shortage. Your abundant seed spreading should result in quite the epidemic in our neighborhood. Each time you and I spot one when we are on a walk, you say "OH GOSH!" and then we pretend stretch to reach it and I make a big production about how I can't quite.get.there. And then you snatch it up and wave it around until all the seeds are gone. Repeat this about 100x.

We are getting our money's worth out of our Magic House membership. Both you and your Dad could spend all day on this little structure.

 

You rode the train at The Museum by yourself for the first time. I nearly passed out I was so nervous, but the look of pride on your face the first time you passed by is something I will never forget. Such a big girl.

 

You are obsessed with elephants. Or Bumbos (dumbos). It's the first place we go each time we visit the zoo. You yell 'HI!' at them and wave and pretend to eat like a Bumbo and then you crap your diaper and we have to leave to find a bathroom. Every time.

 

You are full of personality and make me laugh every day.

 

 

Staring down the barrel of your second birthday, I don't know how much longer these monthly letters will keep up. I do want to keep writing you, but it might not be quite so regularly. I want you to know (and I want to remember) how much I have adored these two years with you. I want to remember how much fun we had and how you made my heart feel light and achy and happy all at the same time. I want to remember how exhausted I am each night by the time we lay you down, but how after you've been asleep for two hours I am already looking forward to seeing you in the morning. I want to remember how it feels to carry you across a parking lot, because you are almost too big and, unless I want to be carrying you when you are 16, I should probably teach you how to hold my hand and walk safely around cars. But believe me, I would carry you until you are 16 if you would let me and this body of mine would allow it.  I want to remember how you are starting to remember the words to "Fuzzy Bear Goes to Bed" and how you pretend to eat all the food (and some things that are not food) out of all of your books. I want to remember how you are so interested in watching me put my makeup on in the morning and how you demand your own brushes and swipe them across your face just like Mommy. I want to remember these last few months when I am the only one who speaks fluent Annie and that there was a time when you and I shared a secret language and I was your translator to the world. I want to remember it all.

 

I love you, sweet girl.

 

Mom