Happy Birthday, Lovebug

Well, first things first...

Happy 2nd Birthday, Ariana Juliet!

And now, this...

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Dear Ariana,

How is it possible that I am a mother to a 2-year-old? I watch friends and siblings have their first babies, and I feel like I was just there, when the truth is, that was 2 full years ago now.

Everyone tells me I should be bracing myself for the infamous "Terrible Twos" and sometimes you show me signs that you can be somewhat terrible. When we ask you to do something you don't want to do, you like to throw yourself dramatically on the floor. And I usually chuckle as I remind you that, for now, I am still stronger than you, and can still "make" you do what I asked you to do. And it usually doesn't take much convincing to snap you out of your "fit"--sometimes all I have to do is pick you up and plop your butt where I need it to be, or simply distract you into a better mood.

You also like to throw things when we ask you to put them down nicely--your little way of doing what you're told with a dash of rebellion thrown in. And of course, we insist that you pick up whatever you have thrown. You'll usually protest a bit, but then comply, especially if we turn it into a situation where you are "helping" Mommy or Daddy. You love being a little helper.

And yes, of course, you have learned the fine vocal talent called screaming, and, as is your duty as a little girl, you have perfected the octave you scream at to a nearly inhuman screech. But I, in turn, have perfected the parental talent of ignoring you--for self-preservation as much as anything.

If you think I'm making you out to sound like some kind of demon child, that is not my intention (though I do like to lovingly refer to you as "the devil" from time to time). Because, really--those 3 examples above are the worst you ever do. And like I said, your mood changes back to good as swiftly as it changed to bad. Overall, you are the most charming child I've ever met (in my humble, fully-unbiased opinion).

You lavish hugs and kisses on us, sometimes without even being asked, and are quick to hug and kiss everyone in a room when we ask you to say good-bye. Sometimes you even add the word "aww" as you give a hug, even though we've mostly stopped saying it ourselves. You're also trying to use your hugs to manipulate us--to delay bedtime for a few more moments, or to keep us from putting you down. But I must admit, I can't usually argue with such manipulation.

You are starting to learn to use your imagination and be silly. Just the other day, you were "chatting" with me, naming objects around you, when you added the word "motorcycle" to your list. (I should add, also, that after months of saying "mo-tuh" or "ky-kull" separately but never together, you have finally melded them into the very-recognizable "motor-ky-kull.") I glanced around, but since we were at the pool, I knew there were no motorcycles to be found, and I couldn't hear the roar of any driving by. "There's no motorcycle," I told you, with a smile. You simply smirked mischeviously back at me, as though you knew it all along and were just testing me. And then, since you were so delighted by my reaction, you repeated the word over and over with that same impish grin, just to see me chuckle at you.

Speaking of speaking... well, you do it a lot. We joke that we can never get you to shut up, but it's mostly true. You've started talking to yourself, and as I eavesdrop on those conversations, I can't help but wonder what's going through your head. Just recently, you were going through the names of everyone you know, adding the word "no" after each name, with a lyrical rhythm. "Mommy? No. Daddy? No. Ty-ty? No. Molly? No." And on and on. What was going through that little mind of yours?

A few months ago, your Daddy and I counted how many words you knew, and we easily passed the 100-word mark. But Daddy told me the other day that if we tried to count them now, we'd probably tire of counting. It seems like you add new words every day, and learn them faster than ever. Sometimes all it takes is you hearing a word once for you to add it to your vocabulary. (Which means I need to hold my tongue a bit better now, lest you pick up any of my less-than-stellar language. And I should probably start avoiding nicknames like "the devil" before you figure out what they really mean.)

You wake up every morning by cheerily calling out "Hi!"--long and drawn-out, with an almost musical lilt to it. Then you attach one of our names to it. "Hi, Daddy." And if a few tries of that get no response, then you'll try my name, and alternate. But regardless of how slowly we may wake to your greeting, you never get angry or impatient. When you tire of calling out our names, you'll occupy yourself by humming and talking to yourself, or one of your cribmates.

You used to love being carried, but now, more often than not, you insist on walking. We insist that you hold hands when we are in a parking lot or the road, and sometimes you do so only grudgingly or after a short whine. But then there are other times where you will willingly reach for one of our hands, then reach out for the other parent's hand, and walk along happily between us. And sometimes, you forget to let go even when we reach the safety of the sidewalk or grass. And neither one of us is ever inclined to remind you.

You have turned into quite the little daredevil monkey, which makes your Daddy so proud, since he himself was a daredevil child. You are constantly climbing on things, and I watched you climb into your crib the other day, even with the side fully up. I haven't seen you climb out yet, but I'm assuming you already know how. All I ask is that you hang on to those good sleeping habits of yours, in spite of the fact that you know you can escape any time you want to.

I know we have a lot to look forward to this year--a lot of big milestones. We're going to kill that binky habit once and for all. We're going to start (and, hopefully, complete) potty-training. You're going to learn to speak in real sentences and well enough that even strangers will begin to understand you. You're going to outgrow your highchair and graduate to a booster seat. You're going to learn to feed yourself all by yourself. (Actually, you could probably do that now, if it weren't for an anal-retentive Mommy who insists on feeding you the messy foods so that she doesn't have to hose you down after dinner.) You'll probably develop a pretty severe TV addiction (to mostly Disney fare, if I have any say in the matter). You'll grow more hair (maybe enough for me to make pigtails and ponytails--finally!), and you may even start wanting to play dress-up, throw tea parties, and sample my makeup and nail polish. Or maybe you'll just learn to climb higher and throw a ball and get down and dirty, and become the little tomboy your Daddy dreams of you being. It really doesn't matter to me, sweetheart, because whatever path you choose and whatever person you become, I am going to love you with every piece of my heart forever.

Love,
Mommy