Two

My first baby, you feel all grown up already. When I came home from the hospital with your brother, a week after your 2nd birthday, it was clear that the final vestiges of your babyhood have all but evaporated.


You started calling me "mommy", instead of "mama", which will likely give way all too soon to "mom" or "her" when you are angry and spilling secrets onto your girlfriends like I did. And you have grown a sense of humor, laughing a big fake laugh at your own jokes. You delight in yourself as I delight in you, your songs and the way you, for now, want to be just like me. You strut in high heels and demand to accessorize with a purse and hat, more like a grandma than like your mommy who hardly has time for a shower.


You are the consummate host, ensuring that everyone has a snack "nack", when you do, kissing everyone when you are in a good mood and bursting to share your joy. You are all at once a diva and a tom boy, playing in the dirt without a care in the world until you are chagrined by your own "dirty".


Your loves are simple: an ice pop, a ride on Daddy's back, a TV show, your grandma's house and your binky. Your fantasies are a bit more complex: a trip to the beach "Me in beach!", a ride on an airplane, to shave your legs, to have a baby of your own.


I am amazed by your physical gifts, your dexterity and energy level, your huge blue eyes, dimples and flawless skin. I don't love you for any of these things but am humbled by each one, wondering what I did to deserve the cherry on top. Your sensitivity astounds me and worries me all at once -- the way that you ask "Mama 'kay?" when I whisper the smallest "ouch" from across the house. I pray that your universally caring nature will be a blessing and not a burden.

I love how you love me, even though the smothering is driving me a bit batty right now -- as my breastmilk leaks and my unwashed hair tickles my neck in that way that I hate. Your rough yet loving embrace hits me right at the incision that the doctors made to rescue your brother -- and while your hug hurts, it also heals.

You have still proven to be my wonderful girl in the face of so much chaos. The one who asks for naps, kisses her brothers toes, and wants me above all else. When I feel like I am failing at so much, and looking like hell, I am thrilled that someone thinks that I walk on water -- a supermodel.

I am writing this here, because when our days are filled with "No!" and "Gentle, gentle" and "Now!" I need you to know that "I love you" rings louder than the rest. You are irreplacable -- my girl, my first, my everlasting, my soulmate.