Today is Mother’s Day (or at least it was when I started writing this letter), the perfect day for me to tell you how much I love being your Mother.
I got the best Mother’s Day gift ever on Friday; after a month of not being able to lift or carry you because of the surgery, the doctor finally gave me permission to start using my arm, which means I can take care of you all by myself again. It is so nice to finally be able to hold you, and take care of you by myself!
But we did find ways to snuggle this past month. I spent a lot of time sitting on the floor so you could come up and hug me whenever you wanted. It amazes me how you seemed to instinctively understand that you needed to be gentle with me. You are so perceptive, and very, very sweet. You even say “awwwww…” and pat my shoulder as you hug me. It’s the cutest thing.
Several friends came and helped around the house. and helped me keep an eye on you each day while Daddy was at school. I’m so thankful for their help. You enjoyed the company (audience), and it eased my mind to know that they were available to lift you to the high chair, or changing table, or into your crib – and to get you out of trouble as well – you have entered a climbing phase. At least I hope it’s a phase, but I suspect you are just going to become progressively more adventurous. And truthfully, that’s one of the things I love most about you – your sense of adventure – even when you give me a little heart attack while you’re perched on the edge of a piece of furniture.
One of your favorite words is “THIS.” You walk around the house, or even stores when we go out, and hold up random objects proclaiming, proudly and emphatically, “THIS!” After a few weeks of “this,” I nearly fell out of my chair laughing, but proud, when you pointed at something and said “THAT!”
Most of the time when I look at you I see a beautiful little girl, but every once in a while, I see the baby you used to be. The way you hold your feet in the air while you’re laying on your back, or the way you cuddle with me both can take me back to several months ago. I miss that baby, but I am so proud of the little girl that you are becoming. You are so smart, you have an amazing attention span, you are perceptive, and gentle, and sweet, and loving, and friendly. These are all qualities that will serve you well as you get older. I can’t wait to watch you as you develop from a little girl into a young woman. But for today, it’s those snuggles that I enjoy the most.
I know I’m not going to be able to call you Baby Girl for very much longer, but I’m going to take advantage of this opportunity while I can. This past year has been so much fun. Happy Birthday!
I thought about posting a series of photos taken within a 5 minute period that shows just how active my daughter is – but I got exhausted just looking at the pictures. Instead, I’ll show you a few shots from within that time span where she managed to reprogram the satellite receiver while I was obliviously snapping away on the camera.
As I am writing this letter, we have all the lights in the house turned out except for the Christmas decorations, and Christmas movies playing on the TV. It’s two nights before Christmas, and you’re making your rounds of the living room. You check out the tree, then play with a toy, look at a book, come say hi to me, watch TV for a while, and you are just so excited about all of it. Your exuberance is infectious, we find ourselves getting excited over the mundane when viewing the world through your eyes. Christmas is especially magical.
I’ve always loved Christmas, it’s my favorite holiday. But there were years when I was not filled with the holiday spirit. In fact this is the first time we put up our tree in the past three years. Two years ago, I wasn’t in the mood, in fact I had a rather humbuggy attitude because it was right after your Grandpa (my Daddy) died, and that made me mad.
Last year I was pregnant with you, we were broke, and there was a horrible winter storm that blocked our car in, so we couldn’t go get our tree and decorations out of storage. But your Daddy gave me a wonderful Christmas gift that year. While I was napping on Christmas Eve, he trekked through the snow to the nearest open store and used our last few dollars to buy a pack of Christmas lights, and a couple other little items. I woke up to an improvised Christmas tree, with the lights wrapped around our easel, and decorated with a tiny stocking, a little stuffed animal, and chocolate. It was absolutely beautiful to me.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget the meaning of Christmas when you’re surrounded with decorations, presents, and superficial familial niceties. Sometimes it’s those lean years, when you have so little that the beauty of Christmas reveals itself. In fact, this might sound mean, but I hope you have lean times. It is the lean times that teach you to appreciate what you have. They also teach you management skills that few of us learn otherwise. But mostly, I want you to experience the lean times because they magnify joy and beauty if you let them. These are the moments where you learn to see through the superficial, and appreciate what’s real and meaningful.
I hope you have a wonderful Christmas this year, although I’m quite certain you wont remember much of it. I hope you keep that wide eyed wonder over the years to come. Don’t let yourself become jaded. Choose joy. And as far as that Santa Clause guy is concerned, he’ll grow on you over time. In fact it wont be long till you will look forward to seeing him.
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