A letter to Eliza on her 18 month birthday

I wrote this last week, on Eliza's 18 month birthday; it's gooshy and long, but I'm overdue for an update, and wanted to capture this sweet time for us to look back on. Of course I didn't get the pictures in the post until a week later - I've been buried in holiday/housewarming party preparations from bedrest. It's how I roll these days. The dress she is wearing in these pictures was her great grandmother Mary's, and is over 91 years old. It came with a note from Mary's mother and is in pristine condition. Eliza wore another little blue one of GrandMary's in her 6 month pictures. 

 
Happy 18 months, Eliza!
What a little love you are. Our easy, easy E.

We tell you every night before bed about how proud we are of the little lady you are becoming. So sweet, positive and loving with others. Happy and spirited and my goodness, such a helper. Confident, proud, chatty chatty chatty. The nurses at the hospital told me you were a very chatty little newborn and to this day you continue to have lots to say (judging by the size of these posts, I guess we know where you get it from). We delight in how positively you face each new day, with such a big, happy heart.

You are entering toddlerhood pretty gracefully from a behavioral standpoint (that slow-to-heal gash on your cheek is evidence that you may have unfortunately inherited mama's ungracefulness on your toes). You listen and mind us so often. You accept explanations for the limits we place on you. Sure you have your moments - they come with the territory at 18 months - but they are rare enough each day that we can still appreciate the challenge they present.

Maybe you are giving us this toddler grace period as the calm before the storm. Because we know it's about to get a lot harder. We hope we are doing the right things now to make it as easy on you as it can be.

You are so, so excited to meet your baby sister. Every night before bed, you kiss my tummy, give it a hug and say "byebye sissy" or "nyenye baby."

Here you are hugging sissy after dinner. That's quinoa in your hair. You had just put the empty supper bowl on your head as a hat and said "touchdown!"

You are getting in a lot of practice for when sissy arrives. You offer my belly sips of milk and pat it gently. You put your own babies to bed and say "shhh." Rock them, burp them, feed them a bottle. You hand me their blankets to swaddle them. You get so excited when you see other babies or their strollers in public, patting my tummy and saying "beh-bee, beh-bee!" As big sisters your age go, you seem pretty ready to rock it.

I hope the real thing does not disappoint, because as I understand it, baby sisters can be major attention hogs. They aren't as quiet as baby dolls either. But I also know she will love being your little sister.

We've been working on going up and down the stairs holding hands (a necessary new skill with a bedrested mama and baby sister on the way). You say "step, step, step," with each big step you take.

You take lots of big girl steps each week, it seems. But we are also often reminded that in many ways, you are still our little baby.

 

You are learning "A, B, C", love to "count," and can identify quite a few colors already.

"Pease" was conquered following a blueberry muffin standoff, aka your first true tantrum (mama takes a bow). You've learned this is the way we ask nicely, rather than fussing. The whining is fading quickly in favor of "pease." It must be a tough transition to go from using crying to get what you need your entire life, to using actual words! You are doing great. Next will be learning that "Pease" is not the ticket to all things...like my iPhone, hazardous sharp shiny objects, permanent markers, or sweets at random times of day.

You love getting dressed; you pick out your dresses, and will stand patiently while I button you or tie a sash. You want to pick your own hair bow. You can put your shoes on and fasten the buckle (sometimes not on the right feet). And love to take them off in the car...not my favorite thing. You sing in tune, much to the marvel of your teachers and us, your mostly tonedeaf parents. You wait for us to go up the stairs, because that's the rule. Thus far our babyproofing has been very minimal by design. You explore freely and listen when we tell you something is off-limits. We've moved dangerous, poisonous things up high, and gated the top of the stairs, but so far that is all you've required other than regular supervision. We'll see if sissy requires more of a lockdown mode in this house. You wait for us to get you out of the bed, because you know that was the deal about getting to sleep in your big girl bed. You've come out of your obsession with animal sounds but can now imitate what a bear does with a fish in the bathtub (very cute dada, important life skills as always!).

When your daddy gets you out of bed each morning, you give him a big hug and pat him softly, reassuringly on the back. It's his favorite thing you do right now (besides the bear thing, obviously). I love how you hug my neck when I'm tucking you in at night, and giggle at my silly blown kisses from the doorway.

Your teacher, Miss Betty, fights back tears when we talk about how you are going to a new school this week, one much closer to our house. She has grown very attached to her "Elijah," her little helper. You eagerly help with the real babies there, and rock them in their swings, saying "shhh" and giving them kisses. We are very proud of how you came through a tough period of Mommyitis (a clingy 16 month old "mama" phase) at school and home, and now get so excited whenever we talk about school. I am feeling so much guilt about changing programs on you after you adjusted so well, but I know you will take it better than I will.

Speaking of helping, at our Christmas party, you noticed some cheddar bunnies crunched on the ground and went to the closet to get your toddler broom and sweep them up. You pull wipes out of my bag and are eager to help me wipe cabinets and the coffee table. You love to load silverware into the dishwasher. Pick up trash and leaves tracked in by the dogs and throw them away in the trash can. I am NOT this much of a neat freak and definitely your daddy isn't. I don't know where this drive to clean comes from, but I am not complaining!

You transitioned to the big girl bed a few weeks ago (17 months). We brought
 the bed into your room around the time we moved in to introduce it for the transition, but weren't planning on letting you sleep in it this soon. I didn't want to push it; there was so much time for you to stay in your crib. But after a month or so of talking about the big girl bed, and reading stories in it before naps and bedtime, you just wanted to sleep there. We worried it was too soon; you are so little and it's such a big bed. But you've shown us you were ready, and we are so proud of how you stay in your bed and play with your animals and wait for us when you wake up. You were so proud of yourself too. Thus far, it has been a very positive thing all the way around. Every new thing we worry about with you ends up being so much easier than we expected it to be. That doesn't keep us from worrying though!

It has become a really sweet little ritual for our family of three to snuggle into your big girl bed together for a story or two before bedtime. We talk about your day, all the highs and lows. Your favorite books right now: "Hello, Jemima!" about Jemima Puddleduck and her babies. "Baby Dear," my copy, now out of print, which has helped you understand baby sister's pending arrival better than any others; "Little Mommy," another vintage Golden Book, which we have now read hundreds of times, "Goodnight Moon," of course, and "I Am a Bunny," which is about the sweetest book there is. I find you often on the floor with a book in your lap. We're so happy you love to read.

We've carefully and strategically started time outs. You caught on quickly and they are working quite beautifully. We've been so impressed with how well you listen to us most of the time, without any threat of discipline. Maybe 5 or 10% of any given day is "toddler" moments, which we consider pretty good.

(here's one.)

Mostly though, it is happy, excited chatter, all day long.

You have so many words now, more every day. It's the most exciting thing to watch your language unfold. You said "blueberry," "dough," and "muffin" for the first time in the span of our baking one afternoon. You don't get the words exactly right, but you try very hard, and it makes us proud that you don't get discouraged when they come out different from how you hoped. When we say "bowl" you think it sounds like "mole," which you know from a book you have, moles "dig dig dig." So anytime you hear bowl you say "dig dig dig dig," and we don't bother correcting it because well, it's darling.

You've been working with utensils for a few months now. Some meals are more successful than others; we don't care if the fork ends up on the floor, but we know it's important to let you practice. But wow, E., you rocked it at Thanksgiving with a real silver fork. 

You continue to be very sweet about sharing, with friends and animals alike.

And you still love to accessorize. You enjoy coming with me to Anthropologie very much. Lots of jewelry and hats all around. Yep, I let you try them on. I try to make our errands interactive when I can and have the energy to. You are very gentle and thus I am very happy to pay for anything I shouldn't have trusted you to play with - but so far, so good. Oven mitts are very in for fall, I understand.

You're in the running around the house in circles phase. The giggling while being chased phase. The "holding mama's hand is a big deal" phase. The total, epic, meltdown because mama isn't understanding that you NEED your baby doll right now, and it's somewhere else phase. Baby doll is your best friend. Except when she isn't (here poor BD is about to meet her fate with a stack of stairs). Apparently, BD is very temperamental.

Baby doll has become very dirty, too, in between changes of outfits, because she goes everywhere with you. Her outfits need washing constantly, but I am not supposed to wash her. We don't know quite what to do about that, aside from some ineffective sponge baths. I guess that's why the Madame Alexander I had as a toddler was named "gray baby..."

You have been a hugger for quite some time now.

You hugged all the pumpkins at the pumpkin patch. You hug your friends at school and on playdates (especially this friend. You and Piercy have been hugging each other since you were baldy, sturdy sitters on quilts at the park).

We hug you all day long. Oh, E., I've said it before, but I am so
terribly in love with being your mama.

We are also in the "throw stuff from the high chair on purpose and get mad when mama doesn't pick it up" phase. We're right there with you, baby, you gotta work through that toddler stuff. But mama ain't no fool.

We have started to bake together a couple of times a week; you bring me your apron from its place on the door. I prepare all the ingredients ahead (like a cooking show) and you dump them in and "stir." With just a little assistance from mama, of course. I crack the eggs. I'm pretty sure eggs are a two year-old skill.

You are really loving baking with mama. You get so excited to watch our creations (mostly muffins and quickbreads from the box - Martha Stewart I'm not) come out of the oven, and so proudly eat what we make. I'm hoping this is one of those special things we can continue to do together while sissy sleeps early on.

It's hard to put into words how easy and close our relationship is right now. I would be lying if I told you I'm not worried at all about how that will change in the new year. I am relishing our time together. You are all I know right now, and I'm so proud of the bond we share, and how smoothly we've come into your toddlerhood together. So of course, there is some worry there for your hormonal mama. I know it won't be completely smooth. And I want our baby girl to feel as loved and special as you do, which will take some adjusting on everyone's parts as we figure out how to be a happy family of four. But I'm hoping your firmly established, very important role as my little helper, my sweet big girl will remain secure. And I'm hoping you always know and feel how much we love you, my sweet E. That will never change. You are my first baby; you are the one who made me a mama.

Love,
Your mama