you sat up and called for me at 4:28 this morning, “mama, mama.” i was sleeping by your side. you wanted milkies. i rolled over and then i remembered that it was your birthday. at 4:30 two years ago the bean was just waking up and wanting me. flash brought him into our room where i got a chance to give him some hugs and snuggles between contractions. then gran gran brought him downstairs to watch bob the builder. i remember this and smiled to myself and dozed off.
at 5:20 this morning you sat up and said, “go see daddy?” i gently encouraged you to lay back down and be quiet so daddy didn’t get woken so early. i wondered why you were up so early. and then i remember it was your birthday. two years ago today i was on my hands and knees on the bathroom floor giving birth to you at this very time. you slide your self entirely out of the cocoon of my body at 5:23 am.
right now, while you nap, i am eating the slice of carrot cake that gran gran got you for your birthday treat. but, i will not touch the vanilla cupcake with jellybeans on top that you clearly favored. you fell down the stairs a bit this morning while i was out at my exercise class and you have told me the story eight hundred and fifty seven times. “mama i fall down stairs. i cry. daddy pick me up! i cry mama. i ok.”
you ate a few of your favorite foods today. for breakfast you asked for frozen edamame and corn. for lunch you had cut up salami, a piece of red pepper, parmesan cheese, a scoop of sour cream, and sunflower seeds. you have worn you pajama top most of the day because you are two and you decided that you didn’t want to take it off and that is that. you bounced on the couch, ran around the house, played playdough, and dug in the sand this morning with the bean and your friend from next door. you also pretended to make phone calls using a wooden block, “i callin’ bastian. i is peter. who dere?!”
sometimes i stare at you wondering how i got the gift of you in my life. you are so full. you are full of love and life and confidence and action and assurance and vim. you spark with frustration and sparkle with laughter within moments of each other. you make your fingers fold over each other when you are scared and you annouce, “mama i SCAD.” you make signs out of your hands and tuck them oddly under your chin when you are excited to see someone, two fingers folded down tight and two others poking out straight while your smile crests between your cheeks.
baby girlie you astound me. with your strength, your intuition, your uncanny brilliance. i remember that early morning on the bathroom floor. the midwife called out to me, “we are almost there. i see over an inch of her head!” i thought to myself, “an INCH?!” because i could feel your whole body pushing me to open up and let you out and i was sure she was going to say she could see you right down to your toes. that is how you have been from that moment. you have filled me up, you have pushed me to grow, you have made me wonder at the sheer force of life that flows through you.
i want to thank you for coming. i want to remember each day to revel in the gift of your presence in my life. i want notice and be grateful. the truth is though that you just fit with me. having you here is like welcoming in a part of myself or my oldest dearest friend. you make me nuts, you make me laugh until i pee in my pants, you make me love you more than i thought i could, you belong in my heart. you are so right for me i believe i forget to filled with wonder. our relationship just flows from one moment to the next like the well worn riverbed it is.
i know in coming years this will shift.
i know you are my daughter and i am your mom and that is sure to be fraught with fright.
today though you are two. and i wanted to tell you that i love you. and that you love frozen peas, and baby (big baby), and “pat lucky”, and marmite with a spoon in a bowl, and watermelon, and cucumbers eaten whole right out of gran gran’s garden, and putting on your bathing suit to go swimming and then walking to the edge of the water and taking it off, and doing tinkles on the grass, and drawing (“drying”), and sitting in the kitchen sink (turn on the water = “up down”), and brown bear, and of course side milkies.
happy birthday my chickpea.
now i’m off to finish the carrot cake slice.