Monday, May 20, 2013
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Saturday, May 11, 2013
My little Baby Bowen,
I can't believe it's been two and a half years since you came to us! Two and half years ago you made your world debut and not a thing has been the same since.
Your toddler-ness this month is incredibly hilarious. You just suddenly do things that make me burst into laughter and really wonder where these things come from. You love walking around saying, "One, two, tree, four, five, SIX!" and the question of the day/hour/minute is always "Why?!" Food that's dipped into everything is always done so out loud, with a "Dip, dip!" You love screaming "Cuddle me!" when you need hugs and kisses or a nice morning cuddle from mama or daddy. You absolutely love swimming lessons and tell me what you learn at the pool following each lesson. Your absolutely favourite friend is "Gnomey," a very heavy garden gnome. You carry him around everywhere we let you, and you often pick up up, rock him gently and sing him an incredibly adorable song that goes, "Little baaaaaaaby." You're so loving and tender with Gnomey and relish your role as his mama.
Like always, my little baby, you're growing and changing and everything moves way too fast. This month, however, has certainly not been without its challenges. You're fully into toddlerhood, which leaves us often struggling between what you want to do and what needs to be done. Your thinking is more advanced than your vocabulary, which certainly presents its own set of conflicts. In addition to that, this month has left me physically hurting and exhausted, as the end of a pregnancy tends to do, which you've been having trouble dealing with as well. I don't blame you one bit - I'm frustrated as well! I'm not as active as you're used to; I can pick you up less, rarely chase you when you want to play "chasey" and avoid bending down to your level with my hurting hips. I think all this affects you more than you can tell me - you're used to your mama being there full and a hundred percent always, and it just hasn't been so. But I promise, little monkey, things will change once again. Physically, I will soon feel better and before you know it we'll be playing "chasey" all over the place! I never want you to think that you're not the top priority because that's exactly what you are, and I'm sad and frustrated that this month you haven't received a fully healthy and energetic mama that you deserve. But this too shall pass. Lastly, this month has been really tough because you've been really suffering from separation anxiety. From one day to another you've stopped wanting to be left at school, when Cypress Corner was something that you've been enjoying weekly for a couple of years! The change happened incredibly quickly, and now you start talking about "no school!" the night before, and will cry unconsolably if I'm out of your sight there. We're really working on it with them, and I've been staying with you at school while this has been going on. You're such a strong willed and brave little girl, and I know that this is just temporary. I've always taught you that mama always comes back, and I want you to feel that in your bones. I will never leave you, my baby girl, and your sudden fear makes me really, really sad.
Just last night you and I were watching some live music at Lonsdale Quay and really enjoying a bag of kettle corn. Suddenly a little girl walked up to you and told you that her name was Isabella, and asked what for yours. "Bono," you said. She took your hand and along with another little girl, you guys danced in front of the stage for a long time, having such a magnificent time in your own little world, spinning and kicking and dancing like little girls do. Not once did you look back at me or have to keep me in sight like you have lately at school. So I know this will pass, my darling Bowen. You're feisty and strong and full of dancing and life, and I know that your independence will return just as quickly as it left. I want you to be exactly who you are, always.
I have to admit, my beautiful Bowen, today's letter has been really hard to write. Our life as we know it is coming to an end quickly. This month you have been very aware of the new baby boy that's about to come into our lives. You are often lifting my shirt to give the baby a kiss or to offer him your dadu. In the morning you ask me if he's awake yet, and wonder about what he's doing. All this time you've been my one and only baby, and suddenly, probably before your next monthly letter is penned, you will be a big sister. I know you'll fit into the role like it was made for you, but it's also sad to see this end of an era. It's just been us until now - the other day as we had a sushi dinner together I was so cognizant of the fact that our days as just you and me are so numbered. We'll still get time alone together, sure, but we'll also have a new little buddy to share our time with. It'll be different and it'll be wonderful, and nothing will change how I love you. But these last two and a half years, my baby, I wouldn't give them up for the world, and I will never ever forget them. When you were born I became a mama, your mama, and nothing in the world has given me as much laughter and joy as that. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, my Bowen, and I hope you always are sure in that fact.
Happy thirty months, my beautiful daughter!
I love you forever,